I just had to carry my sister to bed because she could barely stand. We stopped on the way for her to puke, of course she got it everywhere. Once in bed safely spooning her bucket I went back and cleaned the bathroom. Fun Fun. I was 28 before I got drunk the first time...I puked, I wont lie. But, I cleaned it up myself and no one had to carry me. It is fun to drink in the right environment but when you are the only sober one it sucks ass.
The kids start school tomorrow thank all that is holy. Also thank god none of them are mine lol. I can't sleep and since every other adult here is hammered I am waiting to wake them up at 5. I have been having a hard time sleeping. I dunno if it is the bronchitis or just good old insomnia...maybe both? Either way I am awake listening to my rattling breathing. I have never coughed so much in my life. It seems like the more I cough the worse it gets.
I have been regretting moving here. I am glad I did though, otherwise I would have missed out on the time with Tommy. I just don't know what to do now. The last 8 months have been all about him and preparing for what was to come. Now that it's over and everything that was pushed aside is back and overwhelming I don't know what to think.
I have done things I never thought I would do since I moved here. Some things I can't talk about...some I just want to forget. My whole outlook is different.
I love my family but I hate that anything I feel strongly about they bash. Tommy didn't do that to me. He was very supportive. He always made me feel better. Even if I were sick he would climb out of bed carting his dilaudid pump and come comfort me lol. He didn't believe he was terminal. He knew...but refused to accept it. I feel bad that he didn't have more time. It makes me look at my life and feel sick that I have waisted so much of my time when his was stolen. I don't mean school, I hated school. I could have worked harder and done the things I wanted. Now I feel trapped here. I don't mean for it to sound like self pity. More like self irritation.
I have this plan, as far as plans go it's kind of unrealistic but it's all I have so bare with me. I want to be a writer. Not an award winning billionaire writer, just good enough to live on. I want to move over seas and see the world by myself. With a back pack and a camera. I want to forget this life and everything attached to it and just go live.
I am tired of how people see me. My family is very critical. When I finished my novel I was so freaking excited I was jumping up and down. I have never finished anything...ANYTHING. My aunt asked why I was so happy and I said, I finished it, it's epic. My mother overheard me and said, your book is not epic, you don't even know the definition of the word, then rolled her eyes. This is the definition...heroic; majestic; impressively great: the epic events of the war. Copy and pasted from Dictionary.com. It was the right definition, for me. I felt like I had been to war with this thing. It kicked my ass repeatedly. The fact that I did it in my mind was a great thing. Why do people have to burst bubbles. Who cares if in her mind it is lame or unrealistic. I am not so arrogant or even naive to assume it will be published. Would I like it to be? Hell yes I would. But I know it's hard work, lots of time and energy, talent and then luck.
Is it so hard to just smile and say thats awesome! I'm proud of you? Anyway...enough bitching. Everyone's asleep and the house is that lovely sound of quiet. With 6 kids that sound is precious when you do hear it. If I could stop coughing it would be perfect
This was a long post, I didn't expect to write so much or talk about half of what I did lol. Oh well, it's all true so whatever, it would have come out some other way. No one I know gives a flip about writing so I think I am okay
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