I lost the recommendations that Jones did for me. I am going to shoot myself.

Tear drop 3:00 AM of Sarah

My mom came home tonight, and I was at guard practice when she arrived. The house had not been "cleaned" while she was gone, the toilet was clogged for some reason, the cats water dish was bone dry, the laundry was undone, and nothing was as she expected it to be. Sorry, Mom. We came h ome and there she was, barely able to keep a civil tongue, and once Mrs. Morris left, she unleashed her wrath. It was only at 11 o'clock that she started her screaming and crying hysterics, where she went around throwing things and telling us how she hated us, hated us, hated it here, and what was the point in coming home. I could relate to that, i felt the same way when I came back from Albuquerque... but that was no reaso nto take it out on us the way that she did. And then she grabbed her purse and her car keys and her suitcase and tried to go to the garage, still screaming and crying and having hysterics, and I shoved myself in front of the door and I told her that she couldn't leave. And she yelled and screamed at me about how much she hated me, about how I needed to get out of her way, or she would do something that she would regret, and I wouldn't move, and she wouldn't ever hit me, so she went to the front door, but I blocked her in, and then she went upstairs, and started slamming things around in her room, so I called my father, who called her and calmed her down. But it took a long time and he yelled at me a lot later, for not being responsible enough, for not taking care of every minute detail that comes with taking care of a house. I'm only 17! I shouldn't have to know what I have to do to keep the house running - I thought I was doing a fine job suddenly becoming domestic and making sure everyone did their homework and that the cats and dogs were taken care of. For one weekend, that should have been enough. But then on top of everything, I lied to them about babysitting at the Norton's on Saturday, so that I could go out with Sean, while my sister babysat for me, and I lied to them about having people here, and I lied about having taken care of all of the things that I could remember. I couldn't remember a lot, lately, I can't remember what someone has told me to do unless I write it down, and it wasn't written down, and so I took care of what I could remember, and I'm sorry that it wasn't good enough, but I tried! And I was laid with the full responsibility of not keeping the house in order, of checking my sister's assignments on ParentConnect, for not making sure that Laura didn't dump her perfect boyfriend...I'm sorry, but I tried, and there's nothing that I can do. I was never trained for this, I was always labeled the "responsible" one who would try and take care of everything but that didn't have a domestic bone in her body, and I don't, it was a trying process to bake all of that stuff, but I did, and I tried. I can't say anymore than that. I tried.

Tear drop 12:17 AM of Sarah

Oh god. I'm so tired, I'm so tired. I want to live my life, just live it and not know what's going to happen to me, what's going to happen to anyone, just know that everything is going to be ok, somehow. I don't want to worry about all of this shite and be up until 3:30 in the morning thinking about how all I want to do is just let go of it all and just remember what it was like to be a little kid, before I moved around, before all of the bad things happened and Casey moved away and I got depressed and did things that I shouldn't have done. I shouldn't have done those things and I will never, ever be able to forget them. And that's fitting with Drew's bad things happen to writers, but until the bad things happened, I didn't want to be a writer. But now, now, all I want to do is write out the hurt, write out the bad, look at myself and not remember what I used to be like, skinny and happy and pretty, and just see myself, as I am, large, and somewhat happy, and sometimes pretty, like leftover homecoming pretty. Why can't I have that? I just need to let go, to just release everything, and just live. I don't know why I can't let go of this, but this emotion is building up in my stomach one big boiling ball of terrible feeling and I can't make it go away. I just want to get into my car and drive away into the sunset and not be the responsible one, not be the oldest, the smartest, the protector of little sisters, the most confused, the hurt. I don't know how to get rid of these things. I don't know how to let go.

Tear drop 3:30 AM of Sarah

It's a little past four in the morning, and all I want to do is sleep, but I can't. For some reason I cannot draw myself away from the computer. I've been downloading songs for hours and hours, just expanding my music vocabulary and discovering a new favorite band. I keep thinking about my parents, about how my dad has been in San Francisco for so long, and how my mom went out to visit him, and how they left specific instructions, "no one in the house - ever" "no spend the night company" "don't do anything we wouldn't approve of when we were here" etc. etc. And I managed to disobey those rules rather well. Casey and Sean have both been in the house, Casey spent the night (in my room, in my bed, no funky stuff, just sleeping :) ) which violates all three rules as Casey and I normally have to sleep on separate floors in my house, and Sean was over while no one else was home and we were roughhousing in my family room with my dogs, something that my parents certainly wouldn't have approved of. Sigh. Why did I break the rules? Because I really, really, really wanted to be rebellious. Because I wanted to remember what it felt like to sleep next to someone and NOT have to worry about anything at all. It's been a good weekend, I think, but I'm still not tired.

Tear drop 4:12 AM of Sarah

Look for updates on the ol blogging page soon, folks! I'm sick of the colorful bubbles template... who knows what blog skins can come up with!

Tear drop 7:59 PM of Sarah

I pulled an Ian, took the test, and here are my results.

Paranoid: Moderate
Schizoid: Low
Schizotypal: Low
Antisocial: Low
Borderline: Moderate
Histrionic: High
Narcissistic: Low
Avoidant: Moderate
Dependent: Very High
Obsessive-Compulsive: High


Tear drop 11:00 PM of Sarah

People confuse me so much. You can be friends with them and have conversations for hours with them and when you leave to go home, you don't know a single thing more about the person than when the converation began. And even if you do know more, they always leave you guessing about subjects that are taboo, which falls in with Chase's whole thing on sexual stuff being taboo. I'm not sure, because up to a point, I can talk to both my guy and girlfriends about sex stuff, but it all depends on how much they understand me and I understand them. But after that point, there's always that question of do they or don't they, or should I tell this or ask that? So that's when it all boils down to private things said in the company of two of your best girlfriends on a metal bench at a football game. And even then you don't talk about everything. And that wasn't really my point when I got here, my point was, that I spend all this time with a lot of people, and sometimes I wonder if they really know anything about me at all. And that kind of disturbs me, because I'd like to think that these people are my really good friends, people I'll be able to call at 4 in the morning from a phone booth somewhere and just talk to. Maybe not 4 in the morning, but randomly 30 years from now, I'll be able to call and say hey, what's up, and have a conversation with them that doesn't entirely consist of talking about the good old days. I went to the movies with my sisters today, we saw the Santa Clause 2. It was cute, a few good laguhs. But in the row in front of me, two moms were sitting together with their kids, and then a woman pulls into the row in front of them and says, Hi Susan! and they have a conversation entirely politesse and stiff, and you can tell that's they're uncomfortable and they really haven't seen each other in the years its taken for them to graduate college and punch out the kidlings. That was so weird to watch. What if I go take my kids to see The Santa Clause 100 when I have kids and I see Ashleigh or Bethany with a gazillion kids and we have that same, strained conversation. How weird would that be? I think I've rambled from my point but I'm so confused. I watched my first whole episode of Will and Grace tonight, and all I can say is that I want babies. Lots.

Tear drop 1:33 AM of Sarah

Tonight my existence as a Senior was finally proven. Senior Night - wow, a whole night dedicated to honoring the seniors that spend so much time doing guard, football, band, cheerleading, and trainagering. I love the thrill that I get when I can see and hear my friends while I'm performing, but I when I could see and hear them scream when I was walking to the picture booth, arm-in-arm with my parents, I thought I would burst with joy. My friends and I were celebrated! And before all of the pomp and circumstance of the photo festivities, there was the senior dinner for the bandies, which was delish, and we were served by juniors, which was great. One of them was my sisters boyfriend, and it was great fun to have him run around and get things for us. And then senior gifts, which was so sweet and sad. Best friends had drawn each others names out of the hat, and people who had no idea who their person was all got up in front of the group of seniors, parents, and friends who had gathered in the cafeteria and gave speeches as to why this person was wonderful and magnificent and cool and special. I had Heather Holt - I gave her a bunch of cool kid stuff, like a whoopie cushion and blow bubbles, to remember her childhood, and also a set of purple drumsticks that had been signed by every senior, so that she could remember this year. Ross Cortez had drawn my name, he gave me a beautiful journal, and extremely nice pen, a cool bookmark, a blackberry scented candle, and a pumpkin stress ball (haha) because he knew that I loved to write, and would grow up to be a writer one day. I told him that I was going to copy my first book out in longhand into that journal and send it to him. And I hope that I do end up writing something and sending him my book, and I hope that it is a wonderful, Perks of Being a Wallflower exquisite book. And the pictures and the roses and the cold and the friends.... everything made it fantastic. I truly felt honored for having withstood so much pain and frustration along with so much happiness and laughter. These people are amazing people, and I can't imagine ever being without them (non bandies included, this goes for everyone) because this past week has shown me just how much you can enjoy life when you have a large quantity of friendship and love surrounding you. This past week has brought so much friendship and laughter out of the woodwork - Casey's surprise arrival, Starbucks in the morning, Breakfast Club rehearsal, Drew's amazing party, Senior Night.... I'm so glad that I have all of these memories to take with me when I go off to college. God. COLLEGE. I'm absolutely positive that I'm not ready to go... academically, I'm ready. But mentally, emotionally.... I cannot just go off into another unknown with no one helping me out. I'm ready to withdraw my early decision applications and just go to UGA so that I can be around all the people that I love and miss, and so that I can come back and have fun and have home. How can I leave that place that I've been in for nearly 18 years - sure it's changed locations quite a few times, but its essence has remained the same. My HOME is going to be gone, altered permanently once I pack up my boxes and ship myself off to a tiny dorm room, wherever it is. I won't be able to hide in the shelter of my parents house, wake up and listen to my sister play her clarinet, watch Laura play Sims from my bedroom door. The everyday comfortableness of it all will wear off, my sisters will change, my house will change, and all of my memories and mementos will be just that - memories and mementos of a lost time, the years when everything meant something to someone, when your friends were always there, and they were provided for you by your school system. They required them to come see you 180 days a year, and then some. How can we bear to let go of all of this warmth? I'm not ready to leave.

Tear drop 11:51 PM of Sarah