Today is the first day.

So, today is the first day of the rest of my life. So why is it raining? I wonder why when I'm really sad, everything around me seems sad, too.

There's a note sitting next to my laptop that says,"Call me" from my mother. It has $60.00 attached and I'm sure there's some kind of shopping list she's going to give me. She had this idea, that at the memorial for my father, that we should all light candles. One by one, sad eyes, lighting on candle from the other person's while we sit or stand in a circle of sadness. My Dad didn't want this. I don't want this. All my life I've been a strong person. Getting it together all by myself after living a childhood, wreck. This is the first time in years that I've lived with my mother full-time. I think what I'm scared of is showing that hint of weakness that I know will emerge in front of people that haven't seen me since I was 5.

I know my Mom talks shit about me. She talks shit about all three of us. My older sister, the slut, I'll call her Roxy, since that sounds like the ideal old internet porn chick, is the only one that's really escaped the wrath of Mom. At least to the public eye. My Mom knows she's full of shit. Every once in awhile, when one of us does something that made her proud, she calls the world to tell them. "Hey everyone, S got into Columbia! Can you believe it? She's going to be a lawyer!" I don't think she called anyone when I dropped out because I didn't fucking want to be a lawyer anymore, and I wanted to come home and lie in bed for weeks and not be bothered. But she makes it a point to tell people her grownup daughter lives with her again. Maybe people are too smart to ask, "Well, what happened to Columbia?" Point being, I know my Mom talks shit. I know that for every nice thing she's said about me to these people I don't remember, coming to this memorial, she's probably said 10 bad things.

My baby sister, I'll call her Angelica, even though she's no angel. She and I have a closeness that I never had with Roxy. Roxy blames me for everything that went wrong in her life. Like I personally ripped happiness from her childhood. Sometimes I wish I did, just so I could have something substantial. Angie, has her moments where she can be a bitch, but hey, so do I. Yay Angelica! She just got a job yesterday, and it's her first real Job. Angie's 18, going on 19 in about 2 weeks.


So, now I have to get off of my pity pot, and call my mother, who probably thinks I'm still lying in bed. I've been up for about an hour...but she won't believe me when I call.

Sipping Coffee.

-S

P.S. Roxy, if you ever do come across this and read it, I want you to know that you're a bitch for not helping to pay for the memorial.