I'm so lonely right now.

I feel lonely all the time, no matter if I'm by myself or in a large group of people. Seeing people like Amy#2 and Christina go through tough times and always get back together in the end hurts me, because I have no one that I can turn to at that point. Instead, I turn to a pen and paper and try to map out my feelings to better understand them. It's probably just teen angst, but pretty soon I'm not going to be a teenager anymore, and I'm not going to know what the hell to call it.

Amy#2 has found that she finally loves her parents. That's good for her. She said that she realized it when she thought of how horrible she was to them and how they always came back for more. Sounds a lot like my sister to me. The problem with me is that, I really hate to say it, but I don't think I love my mother. I harbor no ill feelings for her, but I have no really loving feelings for her either. It might be repressed anger on account of how she lives, or maybe just growing up with a STRANGER in the house my whole life kept me sheltered and bitter. But I never want to hurt her, so that might be something. Does that mean I love her?--

I don't know. It's very hard to write this with her going up and down the stairs and passing by my room whistling. I fucking hate it when she whistles. It cuts through me like a dagger. I mean, here I am, in a low and depressed mood, and she walks right by my door whistling, breaking the silence and showing the antithesis of my feelings. The same is when she talks to me vicariously through the dogs or when she uses that stupid "he mad" voice.

I don't know why I'm so dejected all the time. I guess it's almost like I lost her to everyone else. There's no "me and her" anymore. I never want to tell her anything in my life, because I don't want STRANGERS hearing about it. Maybe that's it. I dread 5:30 rolling around, because I know I'm going to be stuck in my room with nothing to do and no one to do it with. I just want to get out of the house when they're here, because it's uncomfortable. I'm not comfortable in my own home, and I would think that after 16 or so years here, she would be able to detect that from me.

And I appreciate all she does for me, like pay for my college, put food on the table, and buy me things I know she can't afford. I genuinely appreciate that, but at the same time, she never read my emotions. Even on the worst day of my life, the day I confronted her and let loose my feelings, she still didn't once inquire as to why I felt the way I did. And from then on, I was fucked up. And I still am. But only (for the most part) when I'm home. When I re-live that experience over and over again.

You can't learn to live with your nightmares. It's impossible. The only way to deal with it is to get rid of it, which I tried, by asking mom if maybe we could live by ourselves, or to avoid it, which I also do now, by not calling home, by keeping to myself in my room, and by staying as vague as possible. Neither really "worked". I mean, I couldn't expect my mother to just up and move into another house with me. Also, her life can't just stop so I can be comfortable. She has to be happy, too. She missed the whole point of our confrontation during sophomore year. Instead of looking at the situation as a dilemma, she played it off as if she were a good parent doing what a good parent does. She said to me "Brian, I'm glad you can open up to me now. I feel so much closer to you." but she failed to realize that going and confronting her was my LAST RESORT. It wasn't something I wanted to do. And I don't think I'll eve do it again. Because it was a failure. She didn't need to just "set me straight" and give me the facts. I already knew the facts. What she needed to do was read between the lines and recognize the conflict, both internal and external, that was going on in my life. I didn't need philosophical garbage at that point. I was, and am, very tolerant of all walks of life.--

No, instead, I needed a plan. A way to cope with this. A concrete solution. Even a negotiation. She didn't even acknowledge my problem. Her advice was: accept it. She didn't come off as cold, but I left unfulfilled, with a glimmer of hope she would do something about it. She didn't. I went back to my life, and tried to deny it, tried to think it through, and tried to deal with it on my own, but I couldn't. Finally, I figured I would just have to wait 2 more years and go off to college. At college, I could make friends that would never have to come back to my hometown and all would be well. And it isn't too far from that now. I like the rowers, Melody, Ronnie, Grace, Rae, all of them. They're good people and, while I'm not sure what all of them think of me, at least they judge me for me and I can be assured that nothing else affects them. But I want to stay in that position. Like I wrote above, she has to be happy, but so do I. So we can choose our own lives, and I'll go my own way, and she can go hers, and while I'll try my best not to hurt her, I have to live my life and maybe, down the line, everything will be right again.