An Update Finally

I'm tired. I'm so tired. I stayed up late waiting until like three in the morning last night. I stayed up until the four the previous night, and I stayed up pretty late the night before that one as well. I have just been tired as hell the last three days.. Oh well, I guess.

My brother Patrick is leaving to go to Ft. Hood, Texas this morning..

The book fair has been going on here in the library everyday since last Wednesday. This is the last day though. I don't like being a library assistant anymore. I didn't like it that much to begin with, but there's nothing to fucking do on a day like this. I feel deserted, a feeling I haven't felt for a while... Well, I have, but in small doses, I guess.

I'm a little mad right now. I'm supposed to reading five chapters of this crappy book before third block, because there's a test, but I don't want to. I'll just fail the test, like I fail pretty much everything else.

I'm a terrible sister. I'm mean to my little brother all the time, when he doesn't deserve it. I tell him he's fat, when really, he isn't all that fat. I have fatter friends than he is, and I never say a word about it to them. I call him stupid and gay, and while he might not be very bright, neither am I.
Anyway, my brother Aaron was looking forward to seeing me over Fall Break when my mom went down 160 miles south of here just to visit them. I didn't go because I didn't feel like being cooped up in a car for two and a half hours.. I almost NEVER get to see him, and I had given up one of the few chances I have just because I don't feel like sitting in a car for an extended amount of time. My brother Charlie.. I never even attempt to talk to him anymore. .

I am a horrible daughter. I talk back to my mom a lot. Why can't I listen? My bedtime is 11:00 every night, yet I stay up passed four in the morning sometimes. I'm never in bed, attempting to fall asleep, by eleven. I don't want to go to sleep at eleven, so I don't. But I'm told to, and I don't obey. She's the only parent I have left, and sometimes it's as if I just bite the hand that feeds me.. I get annoyed when she asks me what I'm doing after high school. I get upset when she keeps telling me to eat. I get depressed and withdrawn when she tells me I should never let myself get so dependent on someone that I actually need them around to survive, as sound and wise as that advice is.
I take for granted what she did in attempts to keep the family together when she was still married to my dad. He once stabbed her with an ink pen and I had wondered what she did to deserve it, instead of being appalled by the fact that my mom was stabbed by my dad. I always assumed my dad was right. I always thought he was the perfect father.

My father was an alcoholic. A pretty bad one. But I loved my dad more than anyone. He was my dad. He showed that he cared about me more than anyone else did. Maybe. Maybe he wasn't that good of a father.. Allowing me to take hits off his weed. Of course, I never did it but once. Allowing me to drink his beer at four years of age. I loved the taste back then, and he didn't deny me it.

But my dad, I loved him more than anyone. He was always there for me to share my problems with, he always wanted me to be happy. He was always there to comfort me in my tears, and always there to laugh with me.

When I was over the summer of 2001 visiting my mom, he died. I remember the day so well.

It was July 3rd, 2001. I had been at my mom's house for about a week or so now (maybe more), and it was boring as hell. My dad had called and talked to me for about thirty minutes, but he said he wanted to talk to my mom for a while, and told me not to let her hang up the phone after they were through because he still wanted to talk to me. He sounded serious, as if whatever he had to say later was imperative. I was too retarded to realize this, and after I noticed my mom was no longer on the phone, and the phone was back on the receiver, I didn't bother to call him back.
Later that day, my little brother Zach and I went next door to play with fireworks and stuff. That night, we were eating pizza over there, and my mom called. She told me to come home because she had something really important to tell me, and I had asked her if she could just tell me over the phone. No, she couldn't, of course, in retrospect. So she told me after I get done eating, to come back. So Zach and I finished our pizza and came back to her house. I was so happy walking up the stairs to the porch, entering the living room. I had a pretty awesome fun day. As I stepped in, I noticed my mom and step-dad were standing in the kitchen. I was too happy to recognize their somber dispositions, and cheerily asked them what it was that was so important.

Jesse said, "You want us to just tell you??" (At this point I knew something could be.....)

So my mom told me, "Your father passed away this afternoon."

Whatever happiness I felt was gone instantly, replaced by some choking void I felt in my chest as I tried to fully grasp what she had just said.. I tried to recover from the shock, but instead I broke down, covering my hands with my face as tears started streaming before my mom pulled me into her arms.

My dad was going to get married July 4th (the next day) to a woman named Nancy Sumter. They had only known each other for a few months, and I was upset they wanted to get married so soon. AND--they decided to marry after only spending a couple HOURS together!! I didn't ever think she really felt anything for him. I saw her again, moping around at my dad's house after my mom brought me back for a while and left me there with my brothers. I asked her if she was okay, and she blew up in my face, screaming at me that no, of course she's not okay.

Only a week after the funeral, Nancy was already with another man.

But I guess it doesn't matter.. For the rest of the summer, Aaron, Patrick and I stayed with my Aunt Shannon and Uncle Tony in Rush Springs. Then we went to a week of torture at Falls Creek.. It sucked miserably.