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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.