So, earlier today, I blocked Kimmie on Skype and I unfriended her on Facebook, because she told me, literally, “don’t fucking talk to me,” and I, out of spite and anger, decided to do just that.

Why had she gotten quite mad at me, you might be wondering. Well, it started with her complaining about her apathy for life and whatnot, to which I kept replying “if you don’t like what’s going on, do something about it.”

Eventually, she posted a blog (the first one on her homepage), which I had read. I left a comment, and, for good measure, I told her over Skype: if you “probably won’t” talk to me about solving your problems, don’t figuratively ask for help in the first place.”

“Are you TRYING to start a fight or something?” she asked in response.

And I replied, (this is all word for word, by the way), “I’m not TRYING to start a fight. I’m making a statement. Don’t call for help if you aren’t going to use it. No one needs your crap.”

To which she got really pissed and shortly afterward, I blocked her.

This thing with Kimmie is rather old history; most of you who read my blog know that my little sister has a mood disorder. Occasionally, she’ll fall into a funk in which she won’t care to do anything except lay in bed all day, regardless of the consequences. And yes, for a while, she used to cut herself (though I don’t know if she truly stopped doing that; I merely assume she has).

What she does a lot when she falls into these funks is she’ll complain about how she doesn’t care about failing school and how she hates everything. Usually, when I’m not trying to cheer her up by joking around, I try to more seriously encourage her. I give her advice on things she can legitimately do to make her situation better. But every time I do, she comes back with some reason or excuse as to why she can’t.

So when I just start agreeing with her and tell her that there’s nothing that can be done, she gets angry and accuses me of not caring, and then goes on about how she hates everyone and how they don’t help her. But when I do try to help, like I said, she doesn’t let me. When I just stop trying to help, she gets hurt, and when I tell her I don’t like her attitude about things and the fact that she needs to get her life in order so as not to screw up her future, she gets pissed. So what am I supposed to do? I can’t win no matter what approach I take.

Still, I was really harsh with her when I had said what I said, though I was being straightforward; if she doesn’t want help, she shouldn’t ask for it, and I don’t need to deal with her crap if she’s going to be inflexible about it. But, I was being harsh. And I do worry.

Sometimes, she’ll say something during these funks like “You know, I literally want to kill myself right now,” or, for a specific example, “I deserve so-and-so because I didn’t kill myself today,” and it scares me. Because I don’t know if that’s just her way of trying to be manipulative or if she’s literally thinking about committing suicide. And I sometimes wonder, if one of these days, my temper and words might actually be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

No matter what’s done, it’s not what my sister wants. I don’t know how to help her and it hurts when I try to and fail, because she’s my sister. Hell, I can safely say she’s my closest friend. She’s my best friend, and I can’t even give her what she wants? What kind of sister does that make me?

I don’t know what to do anymore.

Mom accidentally broke her wine glass. It was a wedding gift from 25 years ago. Somethings happened after that, and she ended up going upstairs and crying for several minutes. It’d be hard to describe other than to say it was ironically symbolic.

I watched the scene unfurl with my own eyes, and replayed it in my mind over and over. And the only thing that I could think at the end of it was: there is no hope for salvaging this at all.

She’s doing better now. I feel rather hopeless and indifferent… numb at the moment. More than anything, my head’s been buzzing incessantly and I seem to feel rather enraged at the moment. The buzzing comes and goes whenever I get pissed off or calmed down. I kind of feel like I’m moving along the line to snapping — something that’s never happened to me before. It seems that over the years, my anger’s been building up and building up and now the only left for it to do is overflow.

But that was my Thanksgiving. I suppose that event at the very end could be called a buzz-kill. All I know is, it ruined my semi-good mood.

I just haven’t been able to get myself to do much of anything. Gotta love those crippling issues.

Anyway, I’m officially on the prowl for a therapist. Yea, I thought I was gonna be the only mentally healthy child of the Baker clan, but I’m suffering from a rather bad bout of depression, not to mention some crap I have to deal with to boot.

It’s not just the high school crap I went through that has been bothering me, I think. That’s a part of it for sure; ever since that Andy!drama back in high school, I can’t get myself to trust new people, even if they are very obviously trustworthy. Infant didn’t help much, Dale kind of didn’t either. It seems Dale only wants to hang out when he expects me to screw him. And so, I haven’t hung out with him in months. But there are some really cool people whom I talk to; like Alyce and Amanda, and Gabby and Kelly. But I can’t really open up like I’d want to. So they’re pseudo-friends as opposed to actual friends. I mean, how can two people be friends if one can’t trust the other? It’s the fundamental backbone of friendship — trust.

The second thing is issues with the family. At the moment, I’m currently not sure if I can divulge, so I won’t, but I guess the best way to put it is this family doesn’t feel like a family, and I suppose any hope of saving that is pretty much gone. We all live together, yes, but there’s no real connection. It just feels like we’re a bunch of people under the same roof, who just to happen to be related to each other. Well, minus Derek, but yea.

The holidays aren’t the same anymore. The only time we actually resemble a loving family would have to be Thanksgiving, and even then, the majority of the day is spent with the men room in their respective rooms on their computers, and Mom cooking Thanksgiving dinner, with the occasional assistance of Kimmie and I (though I plan to help her A LOT more come this year’s turkey day). Natalie is going to be spending her Thanksgiving with us — it’ll be her first ever REAL Thanksgiving meal, the poor child — so maybe it’ll make things a little more fun, but who’s to say?

Christmas might be a little better if they existed in our household. Ever since, oh, I don’t know… when I was 15 or 16, we stopped being able to afford Christmases. For Christ’s sake, we couldn’t even get a tree. Last year we were able to, and that’s only because I was paying for it out of my pocket. It was present to the fam. I might do it again this year because it’s just so depressing without one. The presents last year weren’t from the family; it was a special giveaway thing from Kimmie’s school. So I have the feeling that this year, there will be no tree (unless I get one), there will be no decorating (because I can never seem to get people to help me with decorating around the house — it’s like if there isn’t a tree, then they don’t even care), probably no presents from the parents, I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford presents for the parents, and, as usual, no real family together time.

It’s insanely heartbreaking to watch this happen that way it has. I think that’s the major part of this whole thing. When Millie died, it just triggered the depression, but I have a lot of stuff to get out.

Now if only I could just find an actual therapist.

I haven’t heard any good things about the counselors at the Health center, and well, I wasn’t expecting much, considering one doctor was convinced my once-fractured and still-dislocated coccyx was a cyst (I got x-rays, even though it’s dangerous for my baby making parts, just for the sake of PROVING I WAS RIGHT), and that another doctor thought my deformed clavicle was an overuse injury caused by playing volleyball once a week (turns out there WAS a hairline fracture, like I suspected way back when I first had it, as opposed to a plastic deformation. Hairline fracture makes more sense too). My Personal Essay professor, who frustrates the hell out of me at times, recommended one Susan Compton, who just so happens to not take my GHI insurance. Wonderful. But she told me she’d reach out to colleagues to find someone for me and get back to me. I’m supposed to be expecting a phone call from her today, so *crosses fingers* hope for the best.

… Well that was a lot of depressing stuff. Um, I suppose the only good I can think of is that I’m generally passing my classes, save for one, maybe 2. Though I think in biomechanics I have a C, and I can probably get that up.

Oh, If you haven’t yet, go read the Judgment Day post and review; comments are still open!

Milli was my cat. Or, should I say, I was her human. One of my earliest memories of her, as well as her six siblings was when she was a few weeks old at most; I was around 2. I lied down on the floor and just watched as the kittens rushed by me, perhaps to get food, perhaps because they saw me there, I don’t remember. But what I do remember, besides little kittens squirming their way through my doll house, was that, of all the kittens we had, I played with Milli the most. I don’t know what it was she saw in me, but whatever it was, it was enough for her to choose me. And from then on, we had a special sort of connection. Whenever I cried or was sad, she’d always be at my side, nuzzling me and comforting me because she somehow knew, she knew that something was wrong. We’d play with my pink feather boa (and with her playing, it didn’t last too long).

She hated being in something that moved when it wasn’t her. She escaped in an elevator and ripped up all the occupants flying up and down the walls. She’d yowl miserably when in the car with us when we were moving upstate. It took her a while to settle in the new, and much bigger house, but like the rest of us, she settled in rather nicely in the end. By that time, she had really picked the family as a whole, her “harem of humans”. She cared about us just as we cared about her.

Her weight flip flopped every now and again, but she was always as perky as ever, defying the odds every time. I mean, once Raphael had died back in, what was it, ‘01?… every year Dad would say “I don’t think she’ll make it through the winter.” And every year, she’d prove him wrong.

I’m not blind; I saw when her age had started catching up to her. She had lost the energy she used to have; no more tearing through the house at break neck speeds, no more playing with randomly pieces of stuffs with or without anyone. She started sleeping a lot more, and she gradually lost weight. I was inwardly concerned; I mean, we fed her a whole can of cat food a day — half in the morning and half at night — and we always make sure to keep her water dish full. But she was so thin. It was one of the reasons why I got so mad at Derek and Mom when they’d punished her for something she did in the kitchen. She was older than the rest of us; couldn’t you be a little gentler with informing her that she wasn’t supposed to do this and that? I had no problem with gently pushing her off the table or herding her away from food.

She lived 17, 18 years, and yes, that’s a long time for a cat. What hurts me the most was that she was my cat; she picked me first, and I wasn’t even there to say goodbye to her as she took her last breath.

Milli: I love you and I’ll miss you so much.

I was telling myself that I was going to update this today, and of course, I forget about it until the last minute. Quite typical of me, don’t you think? Anyway, I’m going to give you little updates on what’s been going on.

While there have been some good parts and bad parts since coming home, I think it’s safe to say, I’m quite content with the way things are. I came home, had to skip open volleyball the day I came back (just so that I give my tail bone SOME TIME to heal before I get back into the swing of things), but everyone was nice and they all said hi and we all caught up on things.

Steve Walker, you remember him, right? Yes, he’s still alive. He’s actually back in NY for a brief vacation before they ship him overseas next year (which sucks major ass if you ask me). He was so kind as to stop by to confirm his existence and remind me that yes, he’s a human being and no, he hadn’t turned into another Hologram Man that can only communicate with a cell phone and the internet (Only certain people will get this joke). He beat me up (not literally), as usual, and headed back to his house out in the middle of nowhere. It was good to see him again. Honestly it feels like ages since the last time I actually saw him. It was, what, summer after graduation… like… over a year ago? In some ways he’s changed a whole lot, but in other ways he hasn’t changed at all. Not that change is bad, but it’s good to know that he’s still the retard…. I mean, cool guy that he was back in high school

And the couple of days leading up to today were awesome. We actually got a Christmas tree; a cute little tree that fits nicely in a corner of the dining room. And I think it was from that moment — because earlier in the week Kimmie and I, with the assistance of Kasedy put up lights in the living room and it still didn’t feel quite complete, if you know what I mean — that it felt like we were gonna have a good Christmas. I mean, I can’t remember the last time we had a tree before this year, and the past couple of years we didn’t get any presents at all; we were still hurting from the flood in ‘06. And we still are hurting now. But I think those of us who worry about it were able to set it aside for at least a day so we could truly enjoy this holiday.

And for those who gave to us, and for just the way things turned out, I’m ridiculously thankful. I’ve always felt that, as a family, everyone was kind of drifting apart. The adults besides me had stopped sitting at the table with us, we never do anything that would bring everyone together, like a movie or a game night. Dad grows ever more aloof and it’s still ridiculously hard to talk to the guy. Mom suffers too, though she hides it so no one can really help her either. And Derek doesn’t really interact with us like he used to either; like Dad… and Ricky, and David, he spends approximately his whole life on the computer. Mom and Kimmie aren’t as bad, but still, the majority of their days is spent on the computer as well. And I’m usually not around, or if I’m home, there’s usually someone (namely Kasedy) with me, and we all have fun times, still… in recent years past it’s felt like we’re not really much of a family… just kinda like people living together who just so happened to be related. So I’m really glad that this Christmas was as good as it used to be. I miss those days — when everyone would talk and play with their presents with each other, and have a good old time at the table at dinner, and then just relax and enjoy each other’s company after dessert. I don’t know if this New Year’s Eve will be the same, nor do I know if next year it’ll be as good, if we can get through this financial crap, but for now, I can be thankful that at least this Christmas was a very special Christmas for me.

Happy Holidays, everyone.

That means, I’m going to force you to come out of your office and make you do things that are good for you. Examples include aerobic exercise, maintaining a healthy diet, interacting with your loved ones, and working on some intellectual goodness.

Why, you ask? Well, I have a couple of reasons:

- you’re clinically depressed.

- you don’t have you antidepressants to combat your symptoms.

- it’s a known fact that exercise releases endorphins, ‘feel good’ chemicals that’ll make you feel better. Healthy foods affect you physiological health, which means less stress on the body, which also means less stress on the mind, which also means more positive thoughts. Using your brain stimulates it. The brain is like a muscle; work it and it gets stronger. If you don’t use it, it’ll atrophy and degenerate faster. It’s bad enough that you had your… habits back in the college days, to prevent further degeneration and to reverse some of it in your brain… USE IT!

- Being around people that love you make you feel happy. So for god’s sake, stop living in your damn office. I’ll blow it up if I absolutely have you.

Ah yes, one more thing. If you don’t start seriously putting effort into quitting smoking, I will seriously put effort into making you quit smoking. And I guarantee if I have to step in, you will hate me and wish I was dead. Consider this a warning.

You being depressed is making absolutely everything worse. You don’t put as much effort into anything (especially things that are important), you’re inclined to give up on things faster, you’re more of an asshole to everyone, you do a lot more of that victim shit that makes the world want to smack you around, and generally, life is much more miserable when you, Dad, are walking around and vibing the house out. So I’ve declared it. I’m going to make you have a healthier lifestyle regardless of whether you’ll hate me for it or not. So, you’d better prepare yourself for when I come back. You’ve got a week.

So, first off, Kimmie: Before I say anything else, I’m going to say this. I really don’t give two shits why you’re pissed and who you’re pissed off at. But unless you’re pissed off at me, don’t take your anger out on me. I’m stressed enough by work and school, and I really don’t need anyone bitching at me because they’re pissed at someone else. PS – Dad never “beat you”. He didn’t beat any of us. When we misbehaved, he’d spank us. It’s a form of positive punishment to discipline us to avoid doing bad things. If he really did beat us, we all would have been put in foster care a long time ago, if Mom didn’t divorce him and take us off to live as a true single mom before that.

Now, onto my message. Now, I don’t know if you think you’re not at fault or not, but I’m here to say that it’s your fault just as much as it is Dad’s fault and Derek’s fault. This is my observation, and don’t think like I’m attacking you or trying to hurt you. I’m pointing out something that you might not be aware of, so that in the future, you’ll know better. I noticed that, for all the stuff you say about Ricky and David being horrifically lazy and not pulling their weight around, you seem to be about ten times worse. Mom noticed this, and I do too, but you act like you’re exempt from doing any and all chores. You told me that the house isn’t yours, and you only sleep in your room, but you know, you also USE the bathroom, and you EAT the food and DIRTY the dishes in the kitchen. As a part of the family, and a part of the household, it’s out duty to pitch in and share the work equally. That means doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, and helping out with housework without complaint. If you don’t want to have to do any chores, move out of the house.

It’s not enjoyable, I understand; I’ve yet to meet anyone who actually likes cleaning their house, but it’s something that needs to be done. I know for a fact that you think Nat’s bedroom is disgusting. That’s because she doesn’t clean it. And that’s what our house (OUR house, yours too, because we all live in it) would look like if no body cleaned at all. So do your part; I mean, come on, since people have been maintaining it, when your turns comes up, it’ll be like a piece of cake. 15 minutes tops worth of work, if that much at all. It’s not that big of a deal, not to mention it helps you learn how to maintain your OWN household once you move out and go on your own. Hence why my dorm room isn’t a pigsty; I’ve learned how to maintain it by doing chores over the years.

Now, Derek… I’m pretty sure you remembered that huge fight we got into when Mom was in Spain? I’m letting you know, you did pretty much the same thing here. Look, I’ve said this before (though not in such a nice manner as I am now), but you really seriously need to stop butting into things that don’t involve you, and you need to stop acting like a parent. We have two of them already, and if you really want to boss a kid or two around, go get married and have some of your own. Kimmie hurt your feelings tonight because you butted into something that has nothing to do with you. Yes, I know that you had to do something that had to wait until after she did what she needed to do, but that’s not a good enough of a reason to butt in, ESPECIALLY when Dad is RIGHT THERE talking to her about the same thing. Also, when you get into a fight with someone, you have the unfortunate habit of being ridiculously spiteful, just like Dad (I thought I should point that out, you hypocrite). If you’re going to end up being spiteful and horrendously immature to the point where it makes me want to hang myself, you might as well do the mature thing and walk away from it. Better yet, don’t freakin’ say anything at all, unless you’re prepared to get hurt. In all honestly, after I heard what had happened, you deserved it, because you had no place to say anything at all.

Finally, Dad: I don’t know why you haven’t realized it, but when arguing with us kids, reverting yourself to a 10 year old never gets anything done. The big problem with you is that you have next to no patience whatsoever. And you don’t know how to keep your temper in check AT ALL. Especially when dealing with Kimmie. It’s almost like you’re convinced she’s a bad kid, and so you don’t bother having and patience with her. You need to stop letting her set you off, and you need to stop acting like she’s like a delinquent. When I was talking to you on Skype, at times you were doing that “I’m the victim” thing again. That’s something else you really seriously need to take care of as well. And, when you’re planning chores out, don’t keep Kimmie out of it. Just keep going under the assumption that she’ll do her part too. Because if you keep excluding her, then essentially you’re giving her what she wants: exemption from doing something that she should be required to do. Give me time (and Mom too if she’s going to talk to Kimmie). We’re working to help Kimmie with more important things. Don’t forget that she has some very serious issues that she needs to deal with. And it’s those issues that contribute to her being bratty and bitchy. Just keep it in mind.

One more thing; I don’t really know if you’ve figured it out, but did you ever notice that out of everyone in the family, Kimmie only treats Mom and I well? She gets on all the guy’s cases, not just you, but David and Ricky and Derek. Did you ever stop to think about why she seems to be holding a grudge against the males of the family? It’s because you don’t apologize sincerely. Or maybe you think you do, but to everyone else, you really don’t. Remember in my rants against you on here when I said that you never mean it when you’re sorry? That’s how Kimmie feels about your apology for what happened during the Filor-bitch episode. She feels like you didn’t mean it when you said sorry, she feels like you don’t care about her enough to care that what you did really hurt her, and she feels like you don’t care that you hurt her the way you did. If you want her to stop treating you so horribly (because you’re ALWAYS bitching about this to me), besides the fact that you need to STOP SNARLING the second you think someone’s done something wrong, but you have to apologize to her like you MEAN IT. Apologize to her like you’re about to die and that apology is the only thing that matters. And after that, you need to change how you deal with Kimmie. Have you figured out that yelling at her and snapping at her for every little thing accomplishes nothing? Probably not, which is why I’m telling you this. Instead of losing your patience with her every two damn seconds, when you’re confronting her, you need to stop, take a deep breath or five, and then talk to her in a calm and patient manner. You need to be more gentle with her instead of acting like she’s a criminal all the time. And don’t you dare bullshit and say that you do that already, because you sure as hell DON’T do that with anyone, except Mom. Kimmie’s very emotionally delicate, even though she hides it by being bitchy all the time. It doesn’t take much to hurt her (she shows it by being bitchy), especially if you simply do what Filor and everyone, including you, did, which was convince her that she’s a horrible person with no hope of changing. Think about that for a good chunk of time, and let it sink into that half-working brain of yours.

You need to understand this before you can make a sincere apology or help change the way you deal with her. You need to acknowledge that what happened when she was in 3rd grade wasn’t her fault, and the way she behaves now is partially your fault, like it is Mom’s, like it is Derek’s, and like it is the teachers and the teacher’s aides, and particularly Filor-bitch. Mom’s apologized to Kimmie, and she apologized from the bottom of her heart because she realized just how much she had hurt Kimmie. If you want Kimmie to literally stop hating her, you need to do the same thing Mom did. You need to it ten-fold because you were the most harsh on her out of the family. So think about that.

I don’t know how many of you know I use Twitter, but I do, and on it I said I was having payroll problems. Basically, I haven’t got my paycheck from last Friday, and no one knows where it is. What fun. I went down to the office about half an hour ago, and left them a message, because neither payroll coordinators were there… and I just got a phone call. They’re gonna try to sort this out. I really think any department on campus here involving money is full of retards.

On to the rant, because I need to get it off of my chest.

I think, after years of observation, especially as of late, my dad is all talk and no action. Plus he’s a spiteful jerk, but I’ll get to that later.

“What are you talking about?” you wonder.

Well, it’s kind of simple. He’ll say he really wants to do this, or he’ll promise he won’t do that. And then he’ll either not stay true to his word, or he’ll half ass it and then wonder why nothing’s working.

First example: Waaaaaaaay back, in 1998, when we first moved up here, Dad promised me “When we close on the house, I’ll work on qutting.”

We closed on the house that winter. Can anyone do the numbers and tell me how long that’s been?

For those of you who are retarded and fail at life, the answer is going on ten years. TEN YEARS, and he still chain smokes and buys at least a pack of cigarettes a day. That what, $14, being wasted on lung cancer. And he tells me, over and over and over again, “Oh, I’m working on it. I’ve cut down.” Or, “I’ll do it after this happens.” and he puts it off and he puts it off. What, Dad, do you REALLY want cancer that bad? Or do you really not care about that promise you made me. By all rights, I should go ahead and throw away any pack I see. We made a contract a couple of years ago saying that he’d work on quitting and be done by a certain date (that’s LONG GONE) and if he didn’t, I had the right to intervene and make his life miserable.

Next example: Dad tells me in one of my previous posts that he’s working slowly to fix his depression problem.

Well, that’s obviously bullshit too, because I’ve yet to see ANY changes in what you do. You still live in your office, you still eat like shit, you take horrible care of yourself, and you continue to rot your brain with anime and manga. I can’t even have an intelligent conversation with you. My proof? When we’re talking about knees and kinesiology, YOU talk about aliens. You never talk about anything like politics, or science. The only conversations we EVER get into involve the anime you’ve downloading and like and think I’d like too.

Congratulations. You’ve succeeded in making me lose all faith in you.

That’s not even that half of why I’m mad at him either… so now it’s time for my message to Dad.

Get this through your thick skull; you bitching about every little thing isn’t gonna do shit. Stop acting like everything’s on you, because it ISN’T. The rest of us are trying to take care of this in the ways that we can as well. Oh, and by the way, why do you THINK we’re in the situation we’re currently in.

When you bitch to me about how it’s all on you, it’s always on you, this and that, what am I supposed to do? Tell you it isn’t your fault? That would be a lie, because it IS. Look, I don’t know who told you this, but life isn’t a joyride and a cruise to sit back and relax on. Life’s a BITCH, and that means, instead of bitching about it like a little brat, you’re supposed to SUCK IT UP and deal with it.

Among other things, the one thing that pissed me off was your SPITEFUL UNNECESSARY COMMENT. “Sometimes can you just be a daughter.”

As opposed to what, Dad? I AM being your daughter. Get it through your head; I’M NOT YOUR LITTLE GIRL ANYMORE. I’M 18 YEARS OLD, turning 19 in just a couple of months. I’m a sophomore in college with a career goal that I’m striving for. I’M NOT 5. Of course I’m going to talk to you more like a smart adult, because I’m a SMART ADULT NOW. Mom’s accepted it, so why can’t you?

If you’re gonna bitch at me about things that were your fault, don’t expect my sympathy and an “Oh, it’s okay honey. It’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong.” Expect something similar (but in a much more polite manner) to “I told you a million times, life’s a BITCH. QUIT BITCHING FOR FUCKS SAKE AND PULL YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE DEEP CREVICES OF YOUR ASS.”

But for some reason or another, no matter what we seem to talk about or what I tell you, you won’t listen. That’s another thing that pisses me off; YOU WON’T LISTEN. What do you think I am; a retard? It pisses me off even more when you don’t listen to me WHEN I KNOW MORE ABOUT SOMETHING THAN YOU. I remind you of that health thing. Or did you already forget about it.

You’ll probably apologize, AGAIN. You might already have, though that message didn’t show on Skype. Just a “Just wanted to say that I…” Of course, maybe that wasn’t an apology and you aren’t gonna apologize because I’m in “the wrong” even though all I did was state the facts. Oh, and give logical suggestions to your fucking problems that you bitch about 24/7 instead of doing anything about.

You know, at this point, I really can’t take your apology seriously, because it’s just gonna happen AGAIN. You wanna know what to do to solve everything. How about you start by ACTUALLY WORKING ON YOUR FUCKING DEPRESSION BECAUSE AT THIS POINT, IT’S GETTING IN THE FUCKING WAY OF ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING!

And you can say “Oh yea? Well I’m doing this and I’m doing that!” but it’s BULLSHIT. I’m not gonna believe any of it until you PROVE IT. PROVE ME WRONG FOR ONCE DAD! Prove to me that I should have at least a little faith in you after all.

Lol. ‘Nuff said.

I’m sorry that the only thing I can do is lose my patience and pressure you to move faster, when the only thing that does is make you feel more guilty and upset.

I’m sorry that I can’t do anything to help you because I just can’t do it.

I’m sorry that I’m aware that you’re hurting, but I don’t do the right things that will make you feel better.

I really love you Kimmie, you’re my little sister, and you’re one of my best and closest friends. I hate having to watch you do this to yourself, but whenever I start helping I can’t go about it the right way. I really wish I could just wave my hand and make everything better just like that, but I can’t.Or, wave a magic wand which will give me understanding and a solution to your problem. I wish I was more patient so I could tolerate some of the things you tells me (which sometimes really scares me what you say).

I’m so sorry Kimmie, that I’ve practically failed you as a sister and as a friend.