i'm coming clean.
4:12 pm - December 14, 2003

Sometimes it is just so hard to try and be the grown-up. She was crying, sitting on the kitchen floor, swearing over and over and saying things like "I'm going to fly to Tahiti and just never come back." She was angry because she couldn't find the tape with the shows she wanted to watch, angry because she wasn't going to have dinner ready when she wanted to, angry over all the small things that are disguises for the big things. She's angry with my dad for the loss of his job, and I am too, even though we know and openly acknowledge it's not his fault. But it's so hard to suddenly pay almost full price for prescriptions, some of which are incredibly expensive. It's hard to have to watch ourselves and our spending around Christmas time. It's hard to see him be home day after day. It's hard to see him come home after a job interview with weakness and lethargy in his eyes. It's hard to explain to friends and family, because they don't know what to say and I find myself suddenly wishing I hadn't told them. It's hard to hear them fight over the stupidest things and to lock myself in the bathroom so I can cry without interruption. It's hard to be strong, and hard sometimes not to just burst into tears in the most random places. School, shopping, the movies, just talking. I just bite my lip until the pain moves from my thoughts into my lip. It's that simple. It's possibly the most simple part of any of this. The relocation of pain.