it's not fair to say we wasted time. in my view we just used it all up.
I need to babble. Then I need to sleep.
Things are getting harder.
I don't really understand the sudden stage dive, but whatever.
yesterday was really rough.
the brother situation went from:
"So, he's volunteered to go to Afghanistan. He probably won't even go."
to...
"He's leaving after Christmas. We don't know if he'll be home before he goes."
what BUGS me is this. He's my only brother. But honestly, I barely know the guy. I feel like I'm spewing shit here, but I'm really not. I mean, he moved out when I was what... 11? He went to B.C and never came back. I don't blame him. it was a smart move. But really, even when he did live in the same house as me, we never talked. the age difference was a barrier in of itself, and he's a pretty reserved guy. not affectionate, not really social, at least not with his family. dead quiet guy. I was the annoying brat he ignored if he ever saw me. Don't get me wrong, that's normal, I'm not complaining. but I mean, now I'm worried about him.
But still, things feel the same. I mean, wow this may sound wretched, but over these past few years, sometimes I actually... forgot I even had a brother. Is that fucked up? I don't even know. Do I have the right to be worried? I don't fucking know.
SO while I'm confused and angry about all of that shit, I break down because Peanut was taken yesterday. I put him in the crate, I put him in the car, and I heard him yowl and cry in the back seat of the car as it pulled out of the drive way. I walked back into the house and fucking broke down. what the hell.
I don't cry when my brother tells us he's going to fight in a war overseas, but I snap when my cat is taken away? I still have trouble thinking about it. I just sat there in the living room and cried. I fucking hate crying, and I don't do it often, at least I try not to. It felt like the only thing here I really cared about was wrenched from me without consent. I love that little shit. seeing him go was way too hard.
and what's worse is that my mom fucked up the day for him to be taken. So they had to drive him right back. Now he thinks he's safe and sound at home and I have to go through watching him go again.
what the fuck am I even saying, he's a fucking CAT.
Will I behave like this when Colm leaves for Kandahar?
I know he'll be fine. He'll be the one driving the TANK.
but jesus. it's still scary.
I'm so tired. so fucking tired.
tthis morning: back to the packaging department.
happy Canada day.
I hope I'll get to see fireworks.
Things are getting harder.
I don't really understand the sudden stage dive, but whatever.
yesterday was really rough.
the brother situation went from:
"So, he's volunteered to go to Afghanistan. He probably won't even go."
to...
"He's leaving after Christmas. We don't know if he'll be home before he goes."
what BUGS me is this. He's my only brother. But honestly, I barely know the guy. I feel like I'm spewing shit here, but I'm really not. I mean, he moved out when I was what... 11? He went to B.C and never came back. I don't blame him. it was a smart move. But really, even when he did live in the same house as me, we never talked. the age difference was a barrier in of itself, and he's a pretty reserved guy. not affectionate, not really social, at least not with his family. dead quiet guy. I was the annoying brat he ignored if he ever saw me. Don't get me wrong, that's normal, I'm not complaining. but I mean, now I'm worried about him.
But still, things feel the same. I mean, wow this may sound wretched, but over these past few years, sometimes I actually... forgot I even had a brother. Is that fucked up? I don't even know. Do I have the right to be worried? I don't fucking know.
SO while I'm confused and angry about all of that shit, I break down because Peanut was taken yesterday. I put him in the crate, I put him in the car, and I heard him yowl and cry in the back seat of the car as it pulled out of the drive way. I walked back into the house and fucking broke down. what the hell.
I don't cry when my brother tells us he's going to fight in a war overseas, but I snap when my cat is taken away? I still have trouble thinking about it. I just sat there in the living room and cried. I fucking hate crying, and I don't do it often, at least I try not to. It felt like the only thing here I really cared about was wrenched from me without consent. I love that little shit. seeing him go was way too hard.
and what's worse is that my mom fucked up the day for him to be taken. So they had to drive him right back. Now he thinks he's safe and sound at home and I have to go through watching him go again.
what the fuck am I even saying, he's a fucking CAT.
Will I behave like this when Colm leaves for Kandahar?
I know he'll be fine. He'll be the one driving the TANK.
but jesus. it's still scary.
I'm so tired. so fucking tired.
tthis morning: back to the packaging department.
happy Canada day.
I hope I'll get to see fireworks.