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I hate complaining. Because everytime I do, I know someone, somewhere, has it so much worse. And I realize I'm not worth it. I'm really not worth much at all...shocker.


I'm not sure which to hate more: my head...or my heart.
I'm back home for Spring Break and it's like I'm...me again, or mostly me. At least, it's so much easier to be me here than it is in TN. There are people here that I don't have to explain myself to, they get it. I'm not a complete freak for not doing drugs, having sex, or getting drunk- and, quite frankly, it's lovely.

And I want to hate my mom so, so much. I swear I do. But I can't. She's my mom. It's insane to realize that no matter how much rational I put behind my anger, I can't be mad, or hateful, or even mildly bitchy.
I don't want to go back...I hate it there. I try to take it in for the small town aspect and the "country air" and the pretty fields, but I just can't. This is my home, this is where- during this stage of my life- I want to be.

But I have to. The overwhelming guilt I feel when I imagine not going back kills me. It'd be like leaving my dad for dead. My dad, who hasn't missed a game of mine since I was four. Who shops with me more than my mom. Who...ugh. I just can't, I'll leave it at that.

And of course the sorry excuse for a love life I still harbor hope for. I can't even get a minute of relief. It's like every minute there is something to remind me of what was, what could be, and -sadly- what is. The stupid part is that I have no flipping clue if he feels the same stupid way I do. And it's making me neurotic. Who am I to tell him that no, you shouldn't fall in love with anyone else and move on because I'm still here, aching to be with you still? Exactly. I'm no one.

*sighs*This is getting long.


The most horrifying, debilitating, awful part of every single aspect of this?
I caused it. I caused it all. Without even trying.