Why does this happen? Everything just adds on top of itself over and over again until life is just one giant weight and I'm getting crushed under it, just trying to keep myself standing. Then it's like the room is flooding, and I can't keep my head above the water, because I'm still trying to hold the world over my head, I'm still trying to keep it all ok.
Everything's so terrible right now, half the time, I don't even know why I'm crying. Is it Keegan? Is it my mother? Is it just basic depression come to fuck me over a little more? Who knows anymore? Who cares?
My mother is forcing me to go to some middle-of-nowhere resident rehab camp thing, unless I 'tell her the truth' about what I've done. Which, you know, would be ok. If I hadn't already told her the truth. I smoke weed. I tried e. End of story. I don't know what else she's hoping for. Maybe she just wants me to be as bad as she was, maybe this is like some punishment for her, maybe she feels like, my being a fuck up is her punishment for screwing up her teenage years.
Or maybe it's the opposite and she just wants to make my teenage years perfect, some vicarious need for perfection. Something I can't really live up to.
I took the money from my uncle, knowing I'd get caught. Knowing she'd find out. I knew that it would be big enough that she couldn't ignore me anymore. She'd have no choice but to talk to me, but to love me again. She'd have to. I didn't really care if I got caught or not, because either way, I thought I'd be fixing something.
I guess it didn't work out that way, I should have never pushed to have her in my life again. She's involved enough to screw it all up. If she'd just back off, give up on me, let me live with Stacey and get a job and support myself, I could prove to her that I could do it. I could stay off drugs and shit. As it is, the constant stress of living here and dealing with my grandmother's shit and my mom's shit and dealing with the fact that I'm pulling them apart makes me want nothing more than several bowls and a couple hits of e.
This is the irony of life. But I guess it won't matter for much longer, if I get my way.
Everything's so terrible right now, half the time, I don't even know why I'm crying. Is it Keegan? Is it my mother? Is it just basic depression come to fuck me over a little more? Who knows anymore? Who cares?
My mother is forcing me to go to some middle-of-nowhere resident rehab camp thing, unless I 'tell her the truth' about what I've done. Which, you know, would be ok. If I hadn't already told her the truth. I smoke weed. I tried e. End of story. I don't know what else she's hoping for. Maybe she just wants me to be as bad as she was, maybe this is like some punishment for her, maybe she feels like, my being a fuck up is her punishment for screwing up her teenage years.
Or maybe it's the opposite and she just wants to make my teenage years perfect, some vicarious need for perfection. Something I can't really live up to.
I took the money from my uncle, knowing I'd get caught. Knowing she'd find out. I knew that it would be big enough that she couldn't ignore me anymore. She'd have no choice but to talk to me, but to love me again. She'd have to. I didn't really care if I got caught or not, because either way, I thought I'd be fixing something.
I guess it didn't work out that way, I should have never pushed to have her in my life again. She's involved enough to screw it all up. If she'd just back off, give up on me, let me live with Stacey and get a job and support myself, I could prove to her that I could do it. I could stay off drugs and shit. As it is, the constant stress of living here and dealing with my grandmother's shit and my mom's shit and dealing with the fact that I'm pulling them apart makes me want nothing more than several bowls and a couple hits of e.
This is the irony of life. But I guess it won't matter for much longer, if I get my way.
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