|Current mood:|| confused|
|Current music:||"Travlin' Solider" by The Dixie Chicks|
The First One....
Well, this is the first entry. Exciting, isn't it? Yea, I thought so. Anwho, I'm not really sure why I started this. I guess it was because I needed an 'outlet,' as Mr. B called it last year. Things have been really crazy here the past couple weeks. Some days I can handle it, and carry on like nothing is wrong. And others, I just can't even hold my head up. I know it sounds crazy but it's the truth. Sometimes I just feel so trapped. Like I'm in a room, with not windows or doors, and I just can't get out. Most likely everyone feels like this sometimes, but I guess I just have a different reason. So this is going to be my journal. My outlet. My source of freedom.
Well, I'm getting more used to the wheelchair. Yes, that is right. For those of you who don't know, my dad had to get a wheelchair. My daddy. The guy who taught me how to ride a bike, the guy who always used to cut my hair. The guy who I used to watch wrestling with. The guy who I looked up to. My daddy. His back is getting worse everyday and there is nothing anyone can do. It pissed me off. He didn't deserve any of this. I mean, sure, he's not perfect. But no one is. He's gone through enough in his life. I just wish it would all go away. It's true. You don't know what you have, until you've lost it. Some people might think that I haven't lost anything. But I have. Back to the wheelchair, Laura and I took rides in it, and it was ok. I'll admit, I had a little fun in it, I could round the corner! But when I saw my dad in it, it really became clear to me that nothing will ever be the same. And I found myself wishing that I was five years old again, in my purple shorts and pink top, with my short bleach-blonde hair. My family and I were in Florida. I don't remember much, but I remember us all being there, having fun, only caring about how sunny it was going to be and which Disney character we would see that day. At least that's all I cared about. Not worrying about wheelchairs and doctors appointments and surgery's that might never happen. I was a 5 year old kid without an important care in the world.
Things between me and my sister haven't been too hot lately. We fight all the time, and when we aren't fighting, I find myself mad for some reason. I don't even know why. It's all crazy. But we have been fighting so much, it scares me. This is her last year at home. Next fall she's going off to college. She'll be gone. Then my mom and I, well we've had a few snaps back and forth. Usually we don't fight, at all. I just don't know anymore. Things are so crazy.
School is crazy. I don't think my grades are doing that well. I mean, I'm not failing, they just aren't realyl good. Which doesn't even bother me. As long as it's above a C, it's all good for me. But I can't find the 'freedom' I need at school. I can't relax. Some of my teachers are just, eh. I don't even know how to describe how some of them are to me. I just don't like a lot of them. They just get on my nerves, and I snap. You can only bend a twig for so long, then it breaks. As for volleyball, that just causes me more stress. We've lost our last two games. And after both of them, I came home and cried. Especially after this most recent one. I really do not like my coach. I don't know why. I just don't. I didn't like her last season, I don't like her this one. I know I'm not the best on the team or anything, hell, I'm no where close. I just wish things were different.
Well, a lot of that probably didn't make sense. It's all my thoughts. I don't make sense, therefore my thoughts don't either. Oh well. Venting helps a lot. I still feel confused, but about what, I have no clue. Ahh, well, I'm just starting to ramble. So I'm off to bed right now. Goodnight.