Self Destruction is Such a Pretty Little Thing

And I Never Told You That I Can't Take Another Disappointment

And I Never Told You That I Can't Take Another Disappointment

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6/13/14

So, it's ten days to my sixteenth birthday. I should be elated, or at least excited. I'll be sixteen, I'll be able to drive and get a job and start saving money for college or a decent camera. But I'm not in the least bit excited. All I feel is monogamous dread. I don't know why, either. Perhaps it's mom's cancer, which I've known about but failed to mention. I never let myself truly believe she was dying. It's a lot easier to hate a healthy person. I can't deny it anymore. The skin cancer is everywhere, it's eating her alive. She'll stop in the middle of a sentence and be unable to finish because of the pain. It's killing her. I remember years ago my father told me she wouldn't make it to fifty. She's forty-four.

Maybe I haven't been feeling so well because Jess is getting evicted. Since she just had surgery on her hand (which she broke in April, she got hit by a car) she can't work and Nick lost his job and I'm worried to death about what's to become of her.

Maybe I feel low because I found out I have Hashimoto's disease and I have no Idea what that means for my future except I'm going to have to be on medication for the rest of my life.

But maybe, just maybe, it's because I should be out with all of my friends having the time is my life and living while I have the chance. And I'm not. I'm going to surgeries with Jess, I'm sitting in the waiting room while my mom's is being sliced open. I'm at home when everyone else is out living and I'm at home.

I don't know what the hell has been wrong with me. Hopefully, it will clear out soon and it's just a side effect of the meds they put me on.

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Not The American Average- Asking Alexandria