i am miserable.

i just want to be out of houston. away from my stupid family, with all its not-quite-endearing dysfunction. and the pressure of calling friends of mine, who aren't calling me either, but it hangs over my head, making sure i wince about it at least three times a day. and the suffocation of my father's expectations. and james's expectations.

i'm sick of being told just how crazy i am. or how wrong i am. constantly.

according to my father: i fuck everything up, and i always have.

according to james: i'm too mellowdramatic, and he won't deal with it.

and yet, i haven't shared half of my insanity. i mean, if i can't be dramatic about (1) watching my mother kill herself passively with drugs and alcohol (2) listening to my father berate me about my weight, my character and my potential (3) moving across the country from the boy i think i love or (4) my cousin/best friend falling prey to a disease I had to deal with, knowing the pain it causes. (5) miscarriage, which has resulted in my never wanting to have sex again. (6) my own shameful shoplifting arrest(s).

granted, i can be mellowdramatic. but considering what i'm facing this semester, i think i have a decent reason to be in tears every other day. but apparently I'm wrong. again. i should just handle this. by myself.

whatever.

things very rarely feel this wrong.

i'm not even able to defend myself when james yells at me. for being crazy. and too emotive.

i'm sick of this. and by this i really mean my stupid life here.

when i pack my stuff for portland, i'm cleaning out that room and never coming back.

i hate it here. i feel so out of sync with everything that's going on. and i think it's just time to move on.