.

I've just stopped gagging for the first time in a couple hours. My throat is sore from wrenching. My face is wet from tears, my eyes are swollen and sore.

My skin is blotchy and red, my lip has bite marks in it.

I'm cold, I'm suicidal, I'm scared, I'm in shock, I want Andy...I need Andy.

I'm falling apart.

I'm stubbornly telling myself, over and over, "Its not true."

But it is...it is.

Run

I dream of running away.
Almost obsessively.

I dream of running away, running until I have no money. Running until I'm somewhere where no one knows who I am. No one knows where I am, and I never tell them. Not until years and years later at least.

Stay somewhere...somewhere like Washington. Cold...rainy...forest, ocean. Perfect culmination of everything I love.

Write. Write until everyones stories are finished. Seth...Liz...Lucar...Gabriel....Abby and Kira...Violet...Anna, Rio, her love...on and on there names flood through my head until all their voices make it almost unbearable.

I would write, and walk to the ocean, gaze out across it, and wonder the things I wonder. Where will I be in my old age? Will I be alone? Will my mind ever calm down? Will I die before mental illness grips me and erases what makes me me?

Will I still be the same person? Who will lay in my bed and love me late at night when a nightmare rattles me to the core. Will I have children, later. Will they love me, will I be a good mother? Will things ever be like they were when I was little with my parents? Where will my characters go, who's heart will their stories touch. Who's pain will they ease? How much longer before I'm really, truly happy?

I would live for me, for once. Thoughts unburdened by what is best for everyone else. All about me, even if only for a little while.

I'd walk through the woods, always hunting for evidence of the werewolves I know lurk there in the shadows, just out of sight of my petty mortal view.

I'd search every rock and fallen hallowed tree for signs of faeries, sprites, and pixies.

I'd be content.

I dream of it so often I can picture what my house looks like. What I can hear from my bedroom balcony. Huddled deep into a outdoor chair, wrapped in a afghan, late at night, my notebook illuminated by moon and star light, chewing absentmindedly on a pen tip.

A tea or coffee wouldn't be far out of my grasp, steam rolling off it in beautiful wisps of forgotten memories.

I'd be so far away from everything and everyone. Every harsh word, the endless drama, deep probing stare of someone I dislike, questioning eye's that I have no answer to give to make there unwavering stare blink.

So far away only God would know where I was.

I wish...I could stop dreaming about it. I really do. Its like holding candy just out of hand reach of a small child.

Its unpleasant and cruel. For once I wish my mind would listen to me and just...shut up.

The Day I've Had...

So, today at Caleb's I wake up after I night of crying and nightmares. My arms were sore from punching the back of the couch and hitting the wall behind it.

I'm still not sure how I didn't wake anyone up.

But anyway...and btw, this is at Caleb's house, not mine. I woke up to hear Amanda's voice. I notice that all the lights are off and the house is almost unbearably freezing.

I get up and stumble my way into the dining room where I find Amanda, Molly, Maria and Arra standing, all looking pissed.
Amanda's blow and starts going off. I'm still groggy but quickly wake up after hearing the power is off.
Caleb didn't pay his bills, again.
Amanda came over to try to turn the power back on, she was going to pay for it herself, but they wouldn't except it.
I hear dad knows, right after that, he walks in.
By this time we are on the front porch. He starts yelling says the F word, I get freaked out. All I said was "Dad" and he turns on me, eyes popping, face red, and jams a finger in my face saying, DON'T.
I could feel the tears pushing at the back of my eyes, but I refused to look away. I knew everyone was staring at me, I knew Molly's eyes were probably watery, but I wouldn't look away from the eyes with the fire spot in it. My instinct to not look away and prove he had power over me pushed past my want to cry because my father had come close to hitting me.
His finger hung a inch or two from my face, shaking, for a few moments before he lowered it looking ashamed.
I glanced over in time to see Molly, Maria, and Amanda look quickly down at the ground. My gaze found the ugly outdoor carpet too, no one moving until the screen door slammed shut.

Amanda took us out to lunch, and after that we went to her apartment to grab a few things, then out to my house where Maria and me took the kids outside to try to tire them out.
The whole time I'm getting angrier and angrier. I know for a fact that he has enough money in the bank to pay the bills. Hell, he has enough money in the bank right now to pay off his mortgage probably. I know he'll have a thousand and one excuses. A million words pouring from his lips in a mumbled jarg that only people who have known him from infancy can understand.

I just don't understand anymore, I don't understand any of it. The more I try to think about it, the more my brain throbs.

I've caught my mom crying twice today, I've NEVER seen my dad this angry. Caleb's getting away with it as usual, and this week is going to be THAT much harder.

And for what?...what reason?

I had so much more I wanted to type, but I'll have to type it later, I can't even think.

No Title

Just as a warning, there will be a lot of cussing and written screaming in this entry.

I've tried to calm myself down enough that it wouldn't be necessary, but its not working.

This whole moving out thing is becoming a giant mess. I honestly don't even know where to start on this.

I mentioned to Andy a few weeks ago about moving into Caleb's. Caleb had mentioned it to me multiple times since he had moved in, and when I brought it up again later, he loved the idea.

Andy got a bit excited about it, and then I started to too. This would fix all my moving anxieties.

I would be living with someone I knew. Walking distance of multiple places. Rent would be low cost. I'd be close to my parents, and more importantly, Molly.

The once again, when I counted on Caleb for something, I ended up getting hurt.

First it was we could move in whenever. Then it was Jan. Then Feb. Then maybe even as soon as Nov. Now its back to Feb.

On top of that, Britt is upping his rent, and paying for groceries. Casey is also going to be paying him. So now he'll be getting 600 a month, if not more, plus groceries.

He won't kick them out. At least a very highly, highly doubt it.

Then whats the alternative?

Moving in to a apartment with him in Mishawaka.

Good side? I'd be with Andy alone. I'd be farther away from drama. Andy would probably be happier.

Bad side? I'd have no car, which means no independence, which means I'd be depending souly on Andy. I'd never get to see my family, and more importantly, I'd never get to see Molly.

I know he thinks that is such a good thing, but I don't. I don't expect him to understand it.

I love Andy, I say this in every blog. He's everything I could ever possibly want in a guy. He's caring. Loving. Intelligent. Makes me laugh. Makes me feel safe. Good natured (most of the time). Sweet....I could go on and on. We all know I could.

But he always think he's right, about everything, and there is no wiggle room for argument. He'll deny that, but its true.

Regardless of what he says, he's not really close to his family. Yeah, they see each other on Holidays, maybe sometimes in between. They get each other Birthday cards...maybe talk on the phone.

But thats not like MY family. I see my parents almost every day. I spend hours and hours with Molly just talking. I see my grandparents all the time, my grandma calls to talk to me on the phone at the very least once a week. We help each other with yard work. We help each other out financially.

Yeah, my family isn't perfect, but who's isn't?

When I tell him that, he gets nasty about it. Attacks how my parents are horrible parents. How my brother manipulates. How Molly is getting horrible. He doesn't think I don't know that?

I never attack his family. I never attack how his mom is pycho. I never attack how his dad is a horrible dad. Never. And I will never do that. Because there his fucking parents. His fucking family.

I can't make him understand my point of view.

Then there is the dependability issue.

Andy has been developing a controlling nature that kind of has me on edge, I don't know where its coming from. I've never seen it until this year. I'm not even the only one who notices it anymore.

I know he would never ever do anything to hurt me on purpose. But if we move to Mishawaka, what does he lose?...nothing. He'll be around where his friends are. Collin, and on college breaks, Gavin, George, Ryan, etc.

He'll be around his mom. He'll be in a famillier area he grew up in. He has a car. A job.

If I move? I lose almost everything. I'll have the most important thing, him. But I'll lose my friends, my family, my sister, my comfort. I'll be souly depending on him to get around. That scares me. I've always been a interdependent person. Since I was little.

But how can I tell him no if he asks me? How can I turn down a life with him, what I've wanted since a couple weeks after dating him. That I've dreamed about. Strived for...

It doesn't help that last night Molly comes down stairs balling, crawls onto my lap, and won't stop for almost a hour. When I finally got her to calm down, she started sobbing again saying how she doesn't want me to leave her. How she's not ready to live so far away from me yet. How I'm her only parental support. How I'm her best friend. She starts apologizing over and over and over for being snappy with me. For ignoring me. For dissing me. And right now?...She's down stairs doing a huge list of chores I asked her to do. She didn't bicker...didn't argue. And she won't stop hugging me.

So now I feel like utter shit.

Then mom calls. Molly gets on the phone with mom, Molly starts sniffling, mom catches on, Molly tells her why shes crying, mom gets on the phone with me, sounds like SHE is going to start crying, and starts spitting out alternatives left and right.

JESUS!

How the fucking hell am I suppose to fucking do this shit!

I don't know how I managed to talk to them both with a straight face, I really don't.

Then when I get off the phone, Molly comes over and hugs me (Maria still being asleep), and goes "You can do this Kate. You can handle anything, your the strongest person I know." And thats a quote.

I hugged her, nodded, then went to the bathroom to start cleaning. Mean while, I can't even hear my maxed out headphones because my head is screaming so loud.

Thats when I caved and came up here to write this, I have to get this out.

Is Andy really the only one that see's the weeping coward I really am? Why does everyone but him think I'm so strong? I'm not! I'm not anything...

No matter what I do, I'm going to be hurting someone.

Either my family. Myself. Or Andy.

I can deal with hurting myself, its a small sacrifice. But how am I suppose to pick between them?

The worst of all, not one of them is supporting me.

Andy's pushing me, and just insults my family like he can make me hate them more, which just makes me more defensive and angry at him. My family just tells me how I'm not ready to leave yet, how they need me, start's crying, or tell's me its not morally right.

I have never felt so torn in my life. Ever. I can't sleep, my eyes are blood shot from the lack of it. I can't eat without feeling like I'm going to puke. I have to keep taking walks outside to my room so I can cry and get it over with before anyones see's.

I just want some fucking support, a little bit of help, from someone. I can't keep fucking doing this on my own.

And thats what it is, I'm doing this alone.

I don't know what I'm going to do...I really don't.

I want to talk to someone, and I can't. I have a half hour to talk to Andy at night, thats it. And I don't trust anyone else to talk about this.

...hell...

How am I suppose to pull it together? Tomorrow Mom comes home. Clean all day today. Friday is Monkey's huge party. Saturday me and Andy are doing something for are anniversary (I think) and that night is also trick or treat, Sunday is Halloween.

...I don't even want to do trick of treat anymore...I don't even want to watch horror movies...I just want to go in the woods and lie down, dream about werewolves like I use to when I was little and things got to be to much. I want to believe they'll come and take me away like I use to. I want to believe it won't always be like this. I won't always be fighting with people, doing things by myself.

My Heaven is Gray

Tonight my Uncle Mike and Dad got into a fight about Caleb. Them being so close, I had never seem them in such a heated argument. It disturbed me, and as always, I escaped outside.

I padded quickly and quietly barefoot over tall grass. After passing the garage, I made my way to the center of are backyard.
Its beautiful back there, yellow and red leaves cover so much of the ground there is almost no green to be seen. Tree's everywhere, great big open sky. The best part? The sky was gray, like it was just about to rain.
There was a chill breeze, but I sat down enjoying it.
The sound of all the starlings was almost deafening. I had never heard them that loud.
I decided, while sitting out there watching what had to be hundreds of birds fly not to far above my head, that my Heaven would be gray skies. Miles and miles of gray sky in autumn, with a chill breeze, and occasional rain. At night it would be endless stars, and a giant pale moon.

I laid back on the grass, feeling my hair tangle in the leaves around me. Before I knew it, my mind was off in a distant memory.
I often compare old memories to attics. A eerie dark room where there is little light. Hundreds of old possessions (the memories) buried under thick layers of dust, forgotten by time.
But anyway, I digress, as usual.
When I was little I carried a lot of weight on me.
from the time I was six, I began raising myself. By the time I was eight, I began raising Molly. By the time I was twelve, I was trying to school us both. By the time I was fourteen, I had given up every dream I ever had.
All my dreams and hopes were spoken only in my backyard, in the woods. Every tear I ever shed after six was in the backyard, alone.
Everyday it was a almost ritual. I would find a time to escape alone, go to the old hay wagon my grandpa use to have hooked up to a old trailer, about fifty feet from the woodline, right under my very favorite tree. I would crawl up onto it, face the woods, and I would sing. I would sing my heart out. Lyrics poured from my mouth before I even realized what I was singing.
Then I prayed. I prayed so hard that at times it ended in tears.
I prayed for someone...anyone...anything to talk to. Something that understood me, knew me, didn't judge me, comfort me, and most importantly, save me.
At seven my biggest desire was for something to come out of those woods and kidnap me. Steal me away from everything and everyone I knew. I wanted it more then I wanted my next breath.
Every day. Every day for years I went, I sang, I prayed, I watched...waited.
I remember most of the time I wanted it to be something like a werewolf. Even when I was little I never felt comfortable around humans, and believed with my entire being I was actually a werewolf, I just hadn't changed yet, and that someday soon, my real parents would come for me.

Before going outside today, I hadn't thought about me doing that in a long time. After I met Andy it seemed pointless to keep doing that.
...But today, for the first time in what feels like forever, I stared into the woods depths, and dared something to come out and kill me on the spot. Carry me off. Take me away from all of this.
I wanted it to.
After a half hour, when the last of the starling had flown away, and it was quiet, the gray sky still gray, the wind had calmed down, I walked back inside, a twinge of familiar disappointment twisting in my stomach.

Story idea I'm trying to crush

Since I have over twenty book idea's going right now, I'm trying to get this one out of my head, but it refuses flat out to move.

I watched him sitting on my bed, he looked so natural there, it un nerved me in a way.

I wondered as I sat down next to him how many times he had been in here without me knowing it.

He flipped open one of my books, I saw his eyes scan the pages, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"How many books do you have?" He questioned. I jumped at the sudden sound in the silent room.
"Um...two hundred and seventeen." I answered absentmindedly. My eyes were still tracing the lines of his lips.
"...See anything you like?" He asked, his mouth forming into a wild kind of smile.
I finally tore my gaze away and looked into his eyes. They were light green, rimmed by dark lashes, they held a mischievous look akin to that of a child getting away with something they shouldn't.

"No...I mean...I'm sorry, I just can't believe your real...I was sure I had made you up." I was whispering, I wasn't sure why. This whole thing seemed like a giant secret.

He laughed without opening his mouth, it was a low chuckle. My stomach flipped in circles at the sound.
I studied him, studying the book. He glanced up at me, then smiled and back down at the book.
I almost looked away when something caught my attention. His eyes.
A small sound escaped my throat, his gaze shot up to my face, his eyes quizzical.
"What?" He asked.
I couldn't answer him. The green in his eyes hadn't changed, but his pupils had turned into slits, they stared at me, unknowing of their betrayal.
"Your eyes...there..." I trailed off.

I didn't notice the frown that appeared on his face, his hands, still holding the book lowering to his lap. I only noticed when he looked out the window, then back at me, his eyes normal, his pupils very round.
"What about my eyes?" He asked softly.

I wonder

I wonder if they realize what it does to me when they do this.
I've wanted to be a writer my whole life, and my parents talk about my writing, but they won't read it, won't listen to my idea's...anything. They just "talk" about it.
Caleb...they pull his things out all the time, read them, praise his things, shove them in others peoples, push him to keep writing...
There doing it right now...do you know what triggered them getting the stuff out? Me asking if they would look at my stuff. They didn't, but they pulled out his stuff...Blah, angst moment.

God...

I can't sleep. I eat I get sick. My nightmares are so much worse, and all I want to do at any given time is cry and slam my fists into the ground until they bleed and bone is exposed.
...I keep praying, which most of my friends ask me why, more then half my friends don't believe in God, or any anything for that matter. I can't explain to them why I do. My friend told me once, "I don't get it Kate. You've had one of the worst life's I know...seriously. Why do you put so much stock into something you never have any proof from?" I didn't even take a moment to answer. "*insert name here*, lets put it this way. If I'm wrong...and there is no God...what do I lose in the end?...nothing. Now, if I'm right, and your wrong...what do you lose? Everything there is to lose. Plus, I'm not a fool...I just know."
This, by no means, is to tell anyone who reads this that I think what you think (if you think there is no God) is wrong and stupid, feel free to think whatever you want...its just important to my life, so I wanted to clear that up.
Anyway, back to my original point.
I've never been so terrified in my entire life. I can't tell anyone why, because honestly, I don't...no, that would be saying to much. I just can't say anything.
But I'm scared, and tired, and confused, and in so much mental anguish it literally hurts to even think about getting up tomorrow mourning.
...I just want to curl up into a ball, close my eyes, and wait for my life to end. . . I can't tell anyone that. . .I just feel like there is a immense darkness thats just...waiting for me to give up, and, when I do, it will swallow me, and no one will ever hear my screams, I will never escape its depths.

Triles and Tribulations

So this is the second time I've posted this song in this blog, but its been on my mind a lot lately.
Andy has to move out of his house soon. His moms is getting on his last nerve it seems, and he's wanted to move out for the last couple years.
...I made the bad idea to bring up possibly moving into Caleb's after Britt and Casey move out. I didn't realize until later how bad of a idea that was. It SEEMED like a good idea at the time.
Andy would only have to pay 300 dollars a month, instead of the 600 dollars if he went anywhere else. I could live with him considering I have to live there every other week anyway. It seemed like a great and fantastic idea.
But then, after mentioning it to him, him acting excited over it, and leaving. I really started thinking about it.
Andy's not use to the drama that surrounds my family. I'm afraid of the effect it will have on him. Not only that, but the lasting effect it will have on our relationship. I couldn't get a job, because one of the exceptions to the bill being so low is me babysitting, cleaning, and doing all the cooking plus other things. So I couldn't get a job, which means I could never get money to spend on myself, which I've never had the opportunity to do anyway, but I would like to.
Then there is all the girls that flock around there. They see a guy, a good guy like Andy, and they Immediately sink their talons in to them and do everything in their power to try to get them.
I'm not worried about Andy, I've seen girls hit on him, really, really beautiful girls, when he didn't know I was watching or listening. He either ignores them, shows them a picture of me, or in one case, almost punched the girl in the face (he was a bit tipsy). I don't worry about him, its just the girls.
Then there are all of Caleb's guy friends. Vulgar, immature, and did I mention VULGAR? They talk for hours about things they would like to do to girls...and thats all the detail I will go into.
Besides my father, Andy is the biggest gentleman, and one of the most polite people I know. I'm terrified of them corrupting him. Which sounds silly, but their is a thing called the "Caleb Curse" Any person that's EVER moved in with Caleb gets ruined. Amanda. Elizabeth. Twigs. Matt. Britt. Casey. Ethan. Heather. They were all normal, wonderful people with a lot of friends until they lived with him. Now, no one can stand to be around any of them.
And when I move out, I want it to be AWAY from my family, not farther into the worse depths of them.
I love my grandparents, my uncle Mike, and my parents...and Molly. But thats where my love ends. The rest are a bunch of back stabbing corrupt drunken slobs who I can't stand to be around for any length of time.
I don't think I could do a year and a half (estimated moving in time) babysitting, cleaning, drama, drama, drama, complaining, yelling, fighting, vulgarness...I can't do that.
I've given my entire life up to Caleb. I raised Molly almost all on my own because of my brother. We never had friends because of him. Could never have sleepovers. Never went out and did anything. I've more then half raised all of his kids. I've sacrificed almost everything for him...almost my entire life has been living the remains of things he destroyed, or no longer wanted.
I'm 18, with no good childhood memories, and Andy being the only solid good thing thats ever happened to me.
I don't want to lose that. If I lost Andy, I wouldn't live a month. Through three years he's been everything to me. He's been the only person to really push me, to support me, to make me feel like a human, not like a tool. To make me believe I'm beautiful. To make me believe my books can go somewhere, and that they will. He SAVED my life that one day I planned to kill myself almost three years ago, when he send me self conclusion by Spill Canvas.
What if we fell into the Caleb curse.
...I feel so confused and at a loss.

Not only from the prospect of moving into a house that I loath, but because how bad I've been longing to go to college lately. I listen to all my friends talk about it, and I smile and nod, smile and nod, mean while my brain is screaming.
I can't explain to them why I can't, they ask me and I give some terse, short reply that sounds like it should fit.
My mother home schooled us, until I was 11 it was great. I was WAY ahead of all the kids I knew. At 11 I was doing senior highschool Biology. I was doing College literature. And I was good at it. I loved it. I thrived in it.
Then I hit 12. Things with Caleb got much worse...and my mom just...stopped.
I struggled for the next two years to keep teaching myself, and teach Molly the things I already knew. But by the time I was fourteen, everything had stopped altogether. With no new books, no help, and a pissed off, growing rebellious twelve year old (Molly), I couldn't do it anymore.
Ever since I was little, I longed to go to public school. My stomach would twist in knots from my friends talking about things I never knew, things I wanted to know. I wanted it more then anything. Anytime I brought it up to my parents, they scared me out of it.
Told me horror stories of bullies, over crowded hallways where I would be smashed. How, in the teachers eyes, I was just another soup can waiting to be labeled and pushed out.
I always gave up the fight, terrified and comparing the idea of public school to the boogie man I was convinced lurked under my bed.
Now, at eighteen. I can barley do basic math. My parents stopped me from getting my GED until it was to late. And now, my only hope is this program I found where I can get a high school diploma, and maybe, one day, go to college like I've always wanted.

This blog is so.... unorganized and messy. But frankly, my brain is everywhere, and I can't focus on a damn thing. I'm so depressed, and so sad. I feel so lonely, hopeless, and above all, worthless.

Clutch

I clutch my coat closer to me, glancing around I quicken my foot steps. Its not safe here.
I focus on the splash my boots make as they stomp through the puddles in the alley. I shouldn't have stayed out this late, its to dark, I don't have anything to ware them off.
I see the light of the street up ahead, a thin slit of street light. I smile warily, a few more yards...
And then I hear them.
It starts with clicking noises, the sound of nails against the cracked assfault. I try to remain calm as my heart hammers painfully hard against my chest.
I jump slightly as a shadow moves in front of me, darting from one wall of the alley to the other. I stop walking, glancing behind me, wondering if its to late to run back, but that's a mistake.
The glint of many eyes stare back at me, all reflective like a animals eyes when staring into a vehicles headlights. A wall of the blackest shadow I'd ever seen seems to connect them all. I cringe taking a step back as ones lips curl over blindingly white teeth. Pointed to fine tips.
In a split decision I turn and run for the street a few yards away. For a moment I'm lulled into false comfort, my hand is inches from being submerged in dingy lamp light.
I cry out and fall as a sharp pain digs into the back of my leg. I spin on my back kicking out furiously. I hear a crack, a snarl lets loose in the alley and I can feel the chill running rapidly up my spine, I could hear hundreds of years of agony and sorrow in its voice.
I try to hurl my self the few feet into the street ahead of me, but jaws clamp down on my arm and begin to drag me back into the alley. Suddenly I can see nothing but their eyes, gleaming down at me, merciless and hungry.
I scream, but the darkness muffles it, and I know no one can hear me. I thrash madly, trying to shake them off, I can feel their teeth tearing at my clothes, I know if I don't get away now, I never will.
I cry out at the pain spreading all over my body, I feel nauseous from the sound of them slowly devouring me; my tearing flesh, ripping of material. I know I'm slipping away, I try one last attempt to push away, a shadowed face appears over my head, staring down at me so fiercely I stop trying to move.
As we stare at each other, I can feel it moving through my mind, I don't try to fight it, the deeper it goes, the less pain I feel. But in turn for losing my physical pain, I feel its agony. Its sorrow bleeds through me. The deeper into my eyes it stares, the more I welcome what I know is to come.
Its jaw's open wide, I know whats about to happen, but I don't close my eyes.
My hands tangle into the shadow as it descends onto my throat.

Damn space bar.

I'm on the desktop, and this confounded space bar sticks, and its maddening...but anyway.
I'm depressed. I've been wanting to shout it from every online account I have, but I grew out of that when I was 15, so I come here.
These blogs have become a sort of Haven lately. My mind is in more turmoil then its been in months. For the first time in ages,I scratched another tally mark into my bedroom wall.
It all started when I realized how much I'm alone...Molly goes out with friends constantly, but my small fragile circle has broken up, and I've never been good at making new friends...really, I've always made friends through friends I already had...and now that there are none...there are no new friends to meet.

Half of my friends went to college, and all but two (Alison and Spencer, Spence being my friend for almost 13 years) have just told me...I'm not a college kid, so I'm a loser, and ceased talking to me altogether.
The rest just...found different friends. I'm left with Steph, who has been my best friends for almost seven years, but now she is always with Christina, and honestly, has been downing me in front of people lately. I don't really blame her...right now, Christina can just give her something that I can't. I'm just happy that she has someone she can go to, even if that someone isn't me. God knows how much I hate constantly turning to this screen instead of a actual face to vent.
But such is life.
I wonder, what have I done to truely offend this many people? Elizabeth....Brent....Christina....Joey....etc. Am I such a horrible person, and I just don't realize it? I keep probing myself, hoping to figure it out. But I can't.
I just miss going out with friends and doing nothing, but having so much fun doing it.

If Screaming Could Break The Way I Feel

The above title just popped into my head a few moments ago. 
I'm getting ready, for fifth time this week, to clean Caleb's kitchen top to bottom. I'm beyond irritated, and heading into madness, in both sense of going insane, and just being explainabley angry.
My dad lectures me every time I don't do laundry, don't clean up, don't make home cooked meals, etc, etc. 
But how can I explain to him properly the resentment I feel? Its not my kids I'm wasting my life on, its not my laundry I'm doing, its not my food I'm cooking, and its not the chopped up slobbered remenants from my mouth I am later scrubbing off the plates. Its not my house I'm living in, I have no say in the decorations, I have no room here. I sleep on the floor, or if I'm lucky, the couch. 

...I ENJOY cleaning. I wouldn't mind once o ever cleaning, cooking, or raising a child...if it were mine. And that sounds horrible. But I've been living the torn and tattered left overs of other peoples lives since I was six, and I'm so sick of it I can practically taste the bile at the back of my throat.
Sorry if this seems abnormally cruel for me, but I'm writing whats in my head, so it can't be helped. 
I would enjoy being a house wife (to a extent, I don't want to turn into one of those Toading women who are controlled by there husband just because they feel entitled because they get paied for what they do, and housewives don't...but I can't really see Andy doing that...I mean, part of me can, but the greater part doesn't) Taking care of my kids, cleaning, cooking, setting up arts and crafts, making a nice and comfortable home for Andy. Writing when I had the chance, get a book published. I would love it all. 
This is nothing like that. This is like a prison with white hot iron bars. 
My day; I get up, Moe and me get Gage ready for the buss, I clean the kitchen, make breakfast, clean up from Breakfast, pick up toys, do minor housework until Gage gets home. Stick in a movie, make lunch, clean up after lunch, cram my own lunch, scrub down all the counters, pick up everything on the floor, do laundry usually, spend time with kids, listen to Molly talk about how much she hates her life, get stuff ready for dinner, talk to Cabe a bit when he gets home, make dinner, eat dinner, clean up after dinner...now to mention many diper changes in between, change out fits, break up fights, time outs, etc. . . every day, ever other week. 
It doesn't make it any better then I've been sick since the night before last, and I can't go home. 

~Andy~

I miss Andy. 
I miss him really bad. Its been almost three years. Three years of him riding back and forth to see me almost every weekend. Almost three years of him putting up with my families infuriating attitudes and lies. Almost three years of me putting up with his Mom's border line verbal abusiveness, and for the first year, trying to break us up...I still can't believe that phone call she had with my mom...though, now that shes started dating Scott, shes actually really pleasant to talk to now. 
I'm having a hard time sleeping with out him anymore. Which is funny, because for a while it took me a while to get use to it, and I use to feel like he was strangling me, but now...I miss when I roll over and no one rolls after me like he does...if he had it his way he would roll me right off the bed XD he misses me ever in his sleep, haha. 
I miss not being able to run my hands through his hair when I wake up from a bad dream to comfort myself. 
I've been having a horrible time not sleeping lately, I thought it was just my normal pattern every year...but last note I woke up, and I swear to Bob, my chest ACHED...I almost started crying, I just wanted to lean back and feel him against me, hold his arms wrapped around me. And I couldn't, and I was so sad...I couldn't fall back asleep after that for at least a couple hours. 
I wish I could see him tomorrow night, I need him really bad right now, I feel so empty this week without him. I think its because how we've been lately. I don't know if he notices it, but I do. 
I can actually get ANGRY at him now. Instead of just being quiet and brudeing. I'm so comfortable around him...I can't explain it. I've never been that comfortable around anyone, even myself. 
Blah. I'm being all mooshy...*sigh* Well, the dishes aren't going to do them selves...

"I wish I was a butterfly, I'd fly and fly, until it was my time to die."

Lyrics taken from Tapping the Vein's song Butterfly.
Even though the lyrics are some what cheesy, my two songs of the day are that and "Beautiful" by the same band.
It is that time of year, Blueberry festival. Last year I missed it, I had a mixture of strep and upper respiratory infection. I'm looking forward to this year immensely, but at the same time, as always when there is a large gathering of people I know, something is pestering me.
Molly. Not her herself, but the way she looks. Its hard, to have two almost flawless siblings, and then be me.
Over weight, and no boobs...hurray for the ugly duckling!
Everyone is constantly looking at her, admiring her, she giggles, bats her lashes, and I have to sit there, introducing myself to the same person for the third time because they don't remember me.

-_-; like now, she comes in, perfect hair, perfect makeup, beautiful skinny outfit, and asks me how she looks. Me, having to smile, tell her how beautiful she looks, just for her to sight dramatically and go "Its not good enough" and flounces off.
....*growls into pillow*
Anyway. I don't know, I'll get over it like I do every time. Its just frustrating. On the up side, my appetite is decreasing to almost zilch.

Le sigh...shes back. Complaining about her hair. Good Lord. . . Maybe if I took more effort in my appearance? I usually just through on some eyeshadow, black and blue lipstick, rack a comb through my hair, and I'm done in under five minutes. >>

ANYWAY! On to better things.
Its been ages since I've written on here, and I'm appalled at how bad my spelling was. Stephanie is turning my OCD about that sort of thing. My grammar still needs some massive re doing though.
So, what will most likely happen for BB-fest. I'll be listening to my headphones, watching Molly tittering and giggling. Guys drooling over her. I'll probably be blown off my Stephanie as per usual lately.
Really, my plans are to just kidnap Alison and Steph Dembinski one day.
Ugh, this blog is turning into a mess, I can't focus on anything. Two hours of sleep last night, one the night before. My mind is moosh.
To anyone who may fall upon this, I say, please ignore my previous blog entries. I was suffering from a period of retardedness. . .my apologies.
Well, I'm off to pack.

Hmmm....

My mind has been all chaos lately. Chaos chaos chaos.

To start things off, on top of my insecurities, ie; weight, lack of good clothes, un able to afford makeup. I'm now jelous of a girl I've never met.

There's this girl on facebook, and Andy comments her stuff like....all the time. I think hes commented me maybe five or six times since I got a facebook, and from his activity list he comments her stuff six times a WEEK...I feel so stupid. I'm just WAY over reacting...
And I feel guilty...I...ugh. I tried to log into his facebook last night to check on things T.T I only tried once, then I actually slapped myself and turned off the laptop as not to be tempted again.

I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER?! ...all I can think of, is shes pretty, skinny, and prob isn't as stupid as me. . . I don't have one damn thing to offer Andy. . . In reality its the reason I can't get mad at him. Anytime I try I just think "Kate, back off, he could go out and find someone a lot better then you, and then you'll be lucky to get stuck with a abusive asshole who will still live with his mom in the next ten years" So...I just don't get angry. Hes the only person I've EVER cared about like this. I'm a bitch to most people, I don't give a shit what they think of me, and thats the honest truth. But when it comes to him I just fall apart, and tear everything apart, looking at ever flaw I have, trying to hide it before he see's it. Or be extra sweet to make up for it. . .

I just wish I had a job, and could pay for us to do things...I'd feel more secure knowing I could give him SOMETHING.