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So the internet is finally working.

It wasn't for around, three weeks?, because either Jenny or dad did something to it and then they both kept insulting each other and then neither wanted to fix it because it was the other's fault. Then they start screaming at each other and mum gets all cry-y and insomniatic because she can't do anything and I'm ready to tear my ******** eyes out so for once I can be the one screaming.

Needless to say, coming home from school each day has been a blast.

Because I'm supposed to be the rational one. The one my mom can rely on not to freak because I know it will hurt her. The one my dad and sister can come to complain to about each other (separately, of course).

Oh, and we can't forget school or soccer. My classes are okay in the sense that I have something to distract myself with. Shelby and Mr. Prez are in most of them, and I have Matt P. in a lot, too, even though he makes fun of me in front of his friends. W/e, I can deal with that. And when school has sapped me of all my energy, I get to go to soccer games and watch on the bench while people ask my why I'm not playing. Three people asked me this morning, and I don't even know if I'm going to get cleared before the season's over.

And even though I'll get home at nine, you can still count on padre and Jenny to be at each other's throats.

So a week into school and I'm ready to tie stone blocks around my ankles and jump off the Brunswick bridge. Or just start walking until I collapse and die. Or praying that some god in that dome sky will turn me into a bird so I can fly as high as I can until the atmosphere thins and suffocates me to death.

Those were all the thoughts circling around my head yesterday, after practice, when we had to take Jenny to Logan's house. I was trying to breathe evenly while Jenny said rude s**t, and tried not to be pathetic and cry.

Because can you imagine it? Even though I'm useless most of the time, that's the one thing I can do for everyone. I'm not supposed to cry. Other people are supposed to cry. I'm the one person people can count on never to cry. Detached and indifferent, except when I'm mad.

And do you know what I told myself while trying to calm down? "It's just the lack of sleep. You'll be fine. You'll be fine. Lack of sleep. But you can't cry now." What kind of person convinces themselves to calm down by saying "It's just lack of sleep that's making you so moody"?

I went home at six and slept fourteen hours straight, my first night in two weeks I've slept the whole time through.

Now I'm home again and the comp's finally fixed and I'm listening to mom occasionally snap at me and Jenny's occasion bitchy remarks to anything anyone says, because WE'RE the ones that are selfish, when she wants to get paid for getting ice for mum's ankle and hasn't picked up her dishes herself in three years and watching over my shoulder to make sure dad isn't reading what I'm writing. And oh look, Jenny was pissed that I'm not off the comp yet and so when I told her I was about to kill her and sat back down, she threw something at my head and then ran into the bathroom and locked the door so now I'm hyperventilating and I can't see straight and trying not to scream while mom yells at me and then doesn't have the sense to leave me alone when I'm ready to BASH MY HEAD AGAINST ANYTHING ANYTHING AT ALL IF IT KILLS ME.