I don't know what to write anymore.

I'm not even sure what to say.

I understand that. . .I'm not really here anymore. Or I am, or I'm pretending to be. Saving face to ease the complications. Except the complications seem to grow when you least expect it. And I guess I've grown to a point where instead of staying on guard, I just close up, and let them come. I'm tired. Partly because of my medication, but very much emotionally. The activity I'm very good at these days is taking very long naps, because I just don't want to deal with this crap anymore, so I might as well sleep through it. Amber would be calling me an idiot right about now and I probably wouldn't blame her, but if she was living in my shoes she might understand where I'm coming from.

The fact that I care so much is the reason I've stopped. It might not be healthy, but I can't be weak again. I can't whine. Yet it seems whenever I open my mouth or explain myself, there is always something pathetic coming out. So I stopped. I'm tired of complaining about the same thing over and over again. I'm tired of making the same mistakes over and over again. It feels like everything blows up in my face, and if it doesn't blow up, it'll certainly try to crawl under my skin and attack me subtly.

You know something is wrong when I sit in a car with Chad and say nothing. When normally I'll be talking non-stop the whole time, even if Chad doesn't say a word.

My Mom told me today that the doctors are pretty happy with her results. She's pulling together stronger than they thought and she should be with us for a little while yet. My response?

"That's cool."

No exclamation. No big, strong hug. I didn't know what else to say. What am I suppose to say when it seems like every week the diagnosis changes? I want nothing more than for her to live long enough to see me graduate college, and married, and to see her butt ugly grandkids. And I'd like to think she will, that some divine intervention will wisk away the pain, give her some longevity. She needs it. I'm tired of seeing her in pain and I'm tired of standing there and watching it all happen, yet I can't get myself to move. I can't feel that anymore. She told me she needs me to step up, be the man of the family. That I can make this easier. Make it better, but I feel useless. Redundant. Tired.

I'm just so fucking tired.

I don't know how we manage to afford to live the way we do. Our house runs on $5,000 a month most of the time, and we're broke. Dead broke. Yet we keep on trucking. I think. I'm afraid I'm gonna wake up one morning and there will be UHAULs in the yard taking all our stuff away because I'm not being told everything I should be. I'm suppose to be a "grown-up" now, yet I feel like I'm being put in the dark.

Every time Amber asks me what I'm thinking, I usually respond with something about comic books. Why? Because that's all I try to let myself think about nowadays. I'm escaping inside my head. In my imagination. I'm buying as many books a week as I can afford just to keep my head under wraps. I don't care if the stories are stupid or the concept is cheesy. I just need to escape. I need to get away. But I'm needed here. So I stay. I stay out of the love I have for my family, because running away completely would just be a cowardly move and the last thing I want to be is a coward.

Yet I'm so very scared. I don't like having emotional attachments anymore. I don't like getting close to people. I block out my family's advances. I don't leave the house unless I'm forced out for whatever reason. And I don't know what to say.

For an entry that began with, "I don't know what to write anymore," I certainly found some words to say. But I'm not really sure that is what's all there. I try to say my life isn't bad, yet I always find curve balls that make me think otherwise. The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that other people survive on far worse, under far worse circumstances and that's when I realize I can't be selfish. Where I can't complain like I'm doing now. Where I have to suck it up and move on.

Yeah, well. Eh.