So here I am...

I think that I am so small in the world, and that what I am, or who I am, matters so little in the grand scheme of things. I guess we are all small, its just some people have larger effects on the world around them than others. I wish I was such a person, but that is not how I turned out to be. I think in the end, I am searching for just a small world of people I can have an effect on. Sure, I will have an effect on my kids, and that is huge, but I have this thirst to help others that I am not sure can be diminished so easily.

It was told to me that just existing changes the world. If I had never been born, then things would be decidedly different. It is not so much my actions while I have been here, but my very state of being has caused chemical and physical reactions around me that combine with those around others to create something larger. Sure, it might sound like the whole 'butterfly flaps its wings in Africa, causing a hurricane to form over the Atlantic' etc etc, but for whatever reason...it made sense to me.

I strive for perfection, and I know that I will never be that. I try so hard to make those around me happy, that I forget that I deserve it too. I reach for goals that are too high, too lofty, and now I am unsure of what I should reach for. Im too busy holding up those walls to let them go and really go for anything. No...that isn't entirely true either...I let down my guard and woke up my feelings...and I fell in love.

So here I am. The world around me will keep turning if I am here or if I die, and the effect that I have on the world is negligible...but for now, I hold on and hope that maybe I can learn how to do for myself what I have been trying to do for others for so long.

It's an odd moment...time is seemingly losing meaning, one hour running into the next, one day blending into the next, one week meshing into the neverending river that we call time. I think the only way I can really tell time is passing at all is the fact that the scars are healing, and soon, I won't have to hide them. I am getting lost in movies, drifting somewhere between the waking world, and one where I am that which I want to be...one in my dreams.

Sleep doesn't come easy lately. Dredging up the past has brought so many nightmares to the surface, and so many things I cannot yet write about. It's still difficult to face things even though so many years have passed...but I am still living the moments in my nightmares. If only I could come out and say what happened, maybe I would not have such a hard time facing it...

I miss you. It seems that the world has grown quiet. I guess my time spent with you was such a large part of my life that now that it is gone, there is a huge empty part of me, and I wonder why. Without specific feedback, I seem lost, and unsure of how to proceed. You say to assume things, but I am so bad at reading people, especially you...I can't tell if I am setting myself up for failure, or what. Either way, I give you the space that I think you need...knowing that you can always find me, and I will always be here when you are ready.

Still, as silence settles, I feel as if I am holding on and chasing...and Im not sure if this is good or bad. I don't want you to go, to fade away. You were my friend before, and even though things grow into more, you are still my friend. Perhaps the days of loyalty and absolute friendship are gone, but as my true friends of years gone by know, I will do anything for a friend...and I will do more for you...

I try to move my mind on to something else, but you are never out of my thoughts. I guess that is part of loving someone...and I wonder if I am in your mind as well...the only conclusion I can come to is to give it time. Trust that you will be here soon, and that I really do matter.

Tell me a story...dredge up the darkness and force it into the light...

January, 1994.

The walls shook as he hit them, leaving holes where his fists met anything solid. Each impact makes me flinch, and I retreat to the far side of my room after having closed and locked my bedroom door. I pull the blanket over my head, and wish that I could be anywhere but there. Screams reverberate down the hall and through the thin wall that separate my room from theirs. Things hit the wall, and I can only imagine the room descending into chaos. Tears fall and I fear what will come of that night...and I think about Carina, but I can't hear her. I assume she is asleep, and I am too afraid to leave my room, so I simply cower in the corner.

The slam of the front door makes me jump, and through the small slit in my blinds, I watch the El Camino tear out of the driveway as the sun falls behind the treeline. For a moment, I breathe a sigh of relief. He has gone, and I pull the blanket from my head and move towards the door.

*Crash*

The sound of glass shattering close by stops me in my tracks, and for a moment, I search for the direction of the sound. It baffles me, especially as the beating and slamming outside my bedroom door begins again, this time with an almost renewed fervor. I check out my window again to make sure that he was still gone, and the driveway was short a car. The sounds must be coming from my mother...

A soft wimper slowly turns into the cry of a baby across the hall. I wait, trying to see if mom would go to her, but the slamming in the other room continued. Shoving down my fear, I unlock my door as quietly as I can and move to open it slightly. My eyes adjust to the darkness of the hall, and are met with holes along the wall and glass shattered from the picture of God that hung at that end of the hallway.

I slip on my flip flops and jump over most of the glass, making it into my sister's room. Closing the door behind me, I tried to sing through the tears that were streaming down my face. Though my home was not stable, it had never been like this. I feared for everything in that moment, but I tried desperately to console my one year old sister.

As I held her and rocked her, singing a song from the school christmas play that year, silence once again fell upon the house. I sat and sang quietly to the calmed child, envying the fact that she did not have to realize what was going on. Her world was not falling apart, and if I could help it, I would never let it.

'MARISSA! GET OUT HERE!'

The scream made me jump, and slowly I stood and cracked the door wide enough to look down the hallway. There, at the end of the hall on the couch, was my mother drinking from a bottle of wine she had found at some point. Reluctantly, I wrapped my sister in a blanket and creeped out of the room.

This was the first time that I would see the results of the fight that night, and if I did not know better, I would have thought a tornado had moved through. I navigated the glass that now lined the end of the hall where she had torn pictures off the wall, only to end up with wet feet when I made it to her bedroom door. My eyes drifted into the lit room to see the now drained waterbed; a huge gash cut through the middle of it.

I caught my breath and forced myself to walk out to where my mom could see us. I stopped as far from her as possible when I saw her...she was sitting on the couch, a nearly drained bottle of wine in one hand, and the biggest butcher knife in the house in the other. She tapped the tip of the knife on her wrist as she tipped the bottle, and she looked up at me.

'You take your sister next door and call an ambulance.'

It was so hard to find my voice, and when I did, all I could manage was a weak 'Why?'

She pointed the knife in my direction...'JUST DO IT!'

I put my sister in her stroller and rolled it onto the back porch. In the doorway, I turned. My mother was sitting there, ready and willing to kill herself. I wasnt stupid...I knew what she was getting at. The wine was almost gone, and obsessivly she focused on the tip of the knife.

'But mom...I love you.' The tears of an eleven year old fell hard...and she only returned a cold stare. I thought I knew my mother, but that look said something I never want to revisit.

'No you dont. You dont need a mother. You deserve your father, you can't even call Robert dad. You dont even give him a chance. I dont want you here so go away.'

'But mom...please...'

'GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!'

'Theres a reason I dont call him dad.' I was breaking down. Finally, my fear of him was outdone by the fear of losing my mother.

'Oh really? Because you are a selfish brat?'

'No. Because he does things.' My stomach feels sick and my mind is attacked by the images of the night that I bury as the sun rises each morning. I struggle to say it, to tell her, and to keep the thoughts buried at the same time. She explodes into a renewed fit of rage, and around me the house is torn piece by piece. Again, the point is directed in my direction...

'You stay there.'

She gets on the phone, calling his parents...

'Guess what your son has been doing?' The sarcasm and psychotic tone of her voice is so thick...I cant recognize her...She goes into detail to the shocked parents, and then hangs up. Carina is still on the porch, which is probably the safest place for her, but every time I try to move, the point of the knife is redirected at me. My eyes plead with her to let me go, but she makes me sit there until he came home.

Sick to my stomach, and weak from the fear and the tears, I curl up in the corner of the couch farthest from the both. He sits across from me, and mom taps the knife on the table.

'Tell him what you told me'

Fear jolts through me. She was supposed to keep it from him. I beg her silently, but she doesnt seem to care. Through sobs, I repeat what I told my mother not that long before. His glare falls upon me, but I curl tighter into a ball and wish the world would go away. They break into more screaming, mom weilding the knife and Robert staying just out of her reach. It was then I was scared for my life...because I just didnt think that I would survive that night. Someone was not going to make it, and I figured that it would be me.

Through clenched eyes, flashing lights caught my attention slowly, and I forced them open in time to see three policemen walk through the door. Mom turned towards them, knife in hand, and began spouting the story of what he had done, not realizing that all they cared about was the fact that she was waving a knife around....

*****

That night, the took Robert away in handcuffs, mom away in a straight jacket, carina went with his parents, and I went with my great aunt and uncle. The house was left in a state of total disarray, only to be taken stock of later. All told, mom and Robert together had caused 700$ in damage, but once he had left, she tore a path through the house that ended with a price tag of over $5000 in damage.

Robert was home the next day, having been released on bond, and already having a lawyer hired for him by his parents. Mom spent three weeks in the mental ward of the local hospital. Social workers came and went, each one of them barraging me with the same questions. In the end, they said that I was too quiet and unwilling to speak about the details, and Robert passed a lie detector test, so he walked free. A month later, he was granted full custody of Carina.

As for me, I stayed with my Aunt and Uncle for a month before returning to my mother. We spent the next three months living at the titusville salvation army shelter...

I don't know what it is about silence...but it has always unnerved me. Maybe it's another throwback to my childhood, a time where everyone seemed to leave me behind...and no one ever just said what they were thinking. Back then, silence meant that someone else was about to leave, avoid, or hurt me...so I guess it is reasonable to not like silence now.

I know I am afraid of many things...and most of them I simply do not want to face. I've hidden from these things for so long...escaping to a digital realm or a fantasy world that allowed me the freedom to be important to someone or some cause. It's been a jolt to face a reality that simply does not care. I'm still searching for me...digging through all of the faces I put up so that I would be accepted in areas I simply did not fit, trying to reconnect to what I find joy in.

Still, the digital fantasies appeal...an alternative to these scars that appear and reappear on my arms over the long years of suffering. I wish for once they would go away and not return, but I think that I have a long road ahead of me before I can fully write them off as something of the past. What I thought I was over, I never am, and now, I am so scared to face things. Afraid of everything, life is spiraling...but now I realize that maybe I have been so focused on others...so I wouldnt have to face myself...

Tell me a story...face the past...only in seeing it, and feeling it, can I face it and really come to terms with the nightmares...

Facing the darkest moments of the past, the moments that you strive to bury, is never something you want to do. I've lived well over 16 years sweeping those moments under the rug, hoping that they would not be found. I still seemingly blame myself, finding fault in me rather than the one who committed the act. The abuse complex. I can sit back and point it out for what it is, but for some reason, I still cannot escape it. Writing it all down, reliving it in all it's vivid details makes me shudder...and tears stream down my face as the words coalesce on this page...but I am hoping...praying...and begging that somehow getting it all out will help me somehow... Summer, 1992 It had been a long day. For the first time ever, I went to a theme park, and it was fun. I remember being so excited to see shamu, and pet the dolphins...it was almost like a dream for the poor kid that never got to do anything. Up until that night, mom's new boyfriend was kind of cool, and I liked having him around. He got me things, and took me places, and let me ride in the hot rod cars that made the other kids jealous. I was tired that night, and I fell asleep fast and hard. It was the kind of dreamless sleep that you fall into after totally exhausting yourself. The summer made it warm in the house, despite the air conditioning, and I generally slept on top of the blankets. I would often wake in the night and roll around until I was comfortable again, and then drift into another cycle of sleep. This night was different...this is the night that my world changed forever. I remember waking, like I usually did, but this time, I was unable to move. At first I was scared, and in fear, I froze, trying to put together what was going on before I took any action. The room was pitch black, and I remember thinking that my night light had burnt out or was off for whatever reason. There was something holding my hand in place...and after a few moments, I realized that it was another hand... Frozen, I pretended to be asleep. Nothing like this had ever happened, and I was both scared and confused as to what was going on. At some point, he must have realized I was waking, however, because the hand that held mine in place returned it to my bed and he left the room. I remember thinking...why is my hand wet and sticky? I got up and washed them and returned to sleep... ***God...this is still so hard to think about...so hard to type or talk or think...especially in the darkened room. Even this, where it all began. Sure...it gets so much worse...but even this point is something I dont want to face. I feel wrong for thinking or talking about it...like it is something dirty or wrong. How can I ever get over it if I can never face it?! Frustrating...*** The next night, I awoke to the same sensation, my hand being held in place and moved along what I came to realize was something no child that age should ever have to touch, feel, or be a part of...this time he seemed to feel me wake, though I tried to be quiet and not move, but I could feel the grip on my hand get stronger. Again, when he was done and had left, I made my way silently to the bathroom and washed my hands... As the days droned on, and this continued, I was increasingly unable to look at him. I stopped talking to him, incurring the wrath of my mother, who had been trying to get me to call him dad since we had moved in. Instead, I would retreat to my room, or hide in the backyard...refusing rides to school in the hot rods, and staying as far from him as possible. I could never wrap my mind around what was happening, or if I had done something wrong...but fear of being made fun of kept be quiet, and the nights kept happening. A few months went by, and it became routine. I could almost expect him in my room on certain nights, even though my mother was sleeping in the next room. One night, however, in early january...and I remember it vividly...things went beyond this norm. Instead of the waking up to what I had gotten almost used to, I was jolted awake, unable to breathe. At first, I thought that I might be drowning, but it was not long before I figured out that I could not breathe because there was a hand over my nose and mouth. I tried gasping for air, but it felt like I was suffocating. That was when the pain shot through me like a knife. In the moonlit backdrop of my room, I could see his shadow over me...I wanted to scream, but I couldnt...I want to scream now, but I cant. Visions of the night dance in my mind, haunting me, but I cannot bring myself to write them down here. Its like something is stopping me, aside from the fact that it is getting hard to see through the tears...It hurts...and the phantom pains return... Time to change the subject and the soundtrack. Perhaps tomorrow I will be able to write more...but for now, I have to stop before I break. Oh, how I want to face this and heal...I want so bad to get over the hurt and the pain and the suffering...I dont want to bury it anymore...I dont want to be afraid anymore...

The darkness is suffocating. I guess I'm lucky that I was able to fend it off for so long as it is, but being free from it for so long has also made it that much harder to deal with. I feel so incredibly lost, and so incredibly worthless. I went and let go, and that is when the darkness sneaks in and clamps itself around my mind. It's hard to breathe, and I dont know if it is because I am sick again, or if it is because I am drowning in lack of direction.

Crimson rain and pain killers make it easier to breathe, easier to deal with the overwhelming feelings that are taking over. I try so hard to find something to be mad at, but in the end, every thought leads me back to me being at fault one way or another. Pull the pain away, pull it all away. My dreams are turning increasingly eerie, and I wake with the feverish dull pains of whatever occurred in my dreams. It hurts, but it draws my mind away. It's getting more difficult to tell the deathly woes in my dreams, from the pain I feel in the waking world. I dreamt that I stabbed myself in the stomach with a K-bar last night, and I woke up this morning with the worst stomach pain I can remember.

I talk to much...no one cares about the little stupid parts of my daily life. No one cares that I might finally get somewhere. No one cares what I spent the day working on. No one cares that I am sick again, or that I have a migraine, or that my website got another visitor. No one really cares, and my sharing it just proliferates the fact that I talk too much. Shut up Marissa, no one cares! No one cares about your stupid little pathetic life that you continually fuck up over and over. NO ONE CARES!

This is my last place of solace. The last place I can talk and type and they can't see it. They can't tell me how stupid I am, or how bad Ive messed things up. They can't tell me that I am worthless, a bad parent, a horrible addition to the human race. I can sit in my room, alone, with nothing but me, the painkillers, the stinging hurt, and my keyboard. It hurts more, but it eases the pain...a paradox that few understand, unless they have been there. Who cares. If the world refuses to care about me, then I refuse to care about the world. Let them die, let them fall to the evil of the world. Perhaps they will come to understand the pain and anguish that they put others through, but probably not. No, it seems as if I was created for the purpose of handling the pain so that others could go on about their lives without having to feel the hurt.

Remember the days where we could connect on a level that seemed...impossible? Where did that go? Have I finally scared you away? If not, then maybe you should be. You are the only one who has not told me how I've screwed up, and how worthless I am...it seems to me that if the rest of the world thinks it, there has to be some truth to it. Like the song says, there will come a day where 'I will let you down, I will make you hurt'. Maybe you should run while you can, before I can fuck things up beyond repair.

God, I want to go back to being the halfway giddy, awesome girl that you knew in the beginning. The one that didnt annoy you...the one that didn't make you repeat yourself, and the one you fell for. I am afraid...the deeper you get into my mind, the less awesome I will become. The less desirable I will be. I am still stuck...at a time when the world was against me...at a time when death was the goal, and life was meaningless. I try so hard to drag myself away from those thoughts, but in the end, I think it would be better for the world and everyone in it.

You once told me that it is sometimes easier to shut everyone out because it is easier than letting someone in. I am so scared to let you in here...the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. It is ugly in here, where blood stains the walls, and the weeping of years worth of pain is the soundtrack. The stench of death wafts through the air, and rivers of hurt cut through a dark and drab landscape. There is a side of me you have not seen...perhaps glimpses here and there, but I go to great lengths to hide it. I am not sure if you would be able to help me cope, or if you would simply go away, but the thought of loosing you is too much to bear. You said you weren't going anywhere, but you have never been here...

Finally, the pain is waning as my head gets lighter and dizzier. I can't think right anymore, and for that, I am thankful. Into the darkness I drift, hoping beyond hope that I make it out alive. HA! Take this Josh, you asshole. You failed. You LOSE! You think that you had some kind of holier than thou impact on me and my life...well, you didnt. You found me like this, and now that you are gone, I am just like I was. You accomplished nothing...aside from putting me deeper in this hole. I hate you. As much as I try to be amicable, even today, you are mean and evil. I HATE YOU! You are the worthless one...you screwed it all up...why do I have to hurt and you dont?

Darkness, come find me. Take me like the tide, out to the fathoms of an ocean with no end. In the dark, perhaps I will find peace. Far away from the judgment, the hate, and the expectations. Let them all hate me, it wont matter if I am not around to hear it. Let them say how worthless I was, and how I was a bad mother, and how I did everything wrong. They won't be able to hurt me anymore when I can't hear them.

Crimson rain...falls down around me. Codine makes it easier to handle. And here I am, breaking my own heart...so ironic on Valentines day.

Just remember, whatever you decide to do, I love you. It is the only thing I am sure of right now. What I wouldnt give to see you for just a moment...to be close, where you can catch me when I am falling...to know that someone needs me...

Please...take the pain away...let the darkness encompass me...and make me hurt no more.

God, home. It's empty, silent...and again I am back to the depths of my own mind. Today was one of those days, and here I sit again, thinking of how to dig myself out of this emotional pit my mother seems to invoke. Why can't I just ignore her? Why can't I just let her words flow over me and away, down the river of life? It makes me want to scream.

So here I am, feeling so worthless. It's not my fault. It's not my problem. I don't know why not being able to make her happy has me so lost. She will never be happy, and yet, the fact that she repeatedly tells me that I am worthless, not good enough, and plain stupid in life gets me upset over and over again. I'm not sure why I bother to go down there...especially when I have to apologize to anyone around me for her actions.

I'm kicking myself over and over again for falling asleep too. The realistic side of my mind is telling me that no one can run on 2 hours of sleep a night and actually stay awake once things calm down...but I miss your voice...and the fact that I fell asleep mere minutes before you were there kills me. I so want to hear you, and feel you, and just be there next to you...but no, I fell asleep. I know I need to stop beating myself up over it, but I dont know...I find the little things so important, and it just makes me so sad.

I really don't mean to seem so...attached...I know you need space and so on, I just don't think I am ready to step too far away from that which has held me up during some of the most difficult steps I have taken in life. Still, as much as I want to hear you and talk again, I know that you know how to get ahold of me, and you will when you have time. In the meantime, I will be here waiting as always.

I will always be here waiting. I know you probably won't get the reference, but this comes to mind...

"I'll be here."
"Why...?"
"I'll be waiting here..."
"For what...?"
"I'll be waiting for you...so...if you come here...you will find me."
"..."
"I promise."

Anyways...I can't wait to talk to my love again. You are that important in my world. To the world, you might be just one person, but to this one person, you are the world.

<3

Rissa

*Sigh* I still don't know why I bother heading down to Florida. It never turns out well, and while there are moments that are nice, there are so many other moments that just make me wonder why I bother. Not only do I feel constant frustration when I am here, but I feel so disconnected from me and my own world. It's depressing and it makes me want to crawl in a hole and hide.

The only good thing about any of this is that this trip I feel very disconnected from my mother. She used to have such a hold on me, and I used to try so hard to make her happy even to my detriment. Meh. This time I just told her to deal. Stop being and doing what she does or don't bother and we will leave. Sure, it didnt really stop her, but it shut her up for the time being.

What I really did not expect so much of is the bullshit from my sister. She is so enthralled with her friends that she cannot do anything without them. She thinks that I am going to let her have them all over here and that I am going to just give in and let her have the run of the hotel room. She's yelled at Connor, me, and mom...and shes been more of a bitch than I've ever known her to be around me. I mean, I bend over backwards to give her what she needs, and I get slammed anyways. Meh again. I give up. Not gonna deal anymore. She has chosen the friends and her fucked up way of life over her sister. So be it.

What I hated most, however, is the fact that she set me up where I had to talk to her father. I loathe the man, and I want nothing to do with him...yet somehow Carina always makes it so I have to talk to him. I am so caught between not being rude, not locking myself out of her life, and wanting to avoid the man like the plague. I've never hated someone so much in my life...and yet he remains in my life like something that does not ever go away. What I would give to bury that part of my life...

I can't wait to get home and bury myself into work. With a new addition to my arsenal, I have high hopes that something will start to happen. I can't wait to be on the way...

*sigh* A few more days...and hopefully things will go back to somewhat normal. I have tons of work to do...and I just want to get home and get started.

I am missing you like always, and I never will be as cool and calm as you are as long as we are apart. Sure, it is easier as I finally am allowing myself to trust and realize that you are real and you are here...but there is something to be said for being able to look, touch, smell, feel, and simply be near. I really loved last week...and I am looking forward to the summer.

I hope the shuttle actually goes tonight...otherwise, it's back into the fray of exhaustion for me and the kids. Poor Connor is so tired he panics over nothing, and actually woke up crying for you last night. My mom hated it, but I smiled and told him we would see you soon. I'm still amazed at this connection, but it has made me fall even more for you. The last barrier has shattered. My kids love you, and thus, you are as close to perfect as is possible in a human...at least in my eyes. In the end, that is all that matters.

I love you...and I hope you are having a good time. <3 I'll be home soon, and maybe I can get this show on the road.

Rissa

Night falls on the end of yet another week in the life of the Rissa...and again I find myself not wanting to leave where I have come to be. I feel so at ease here, with people that accept me for who I am, as odd as that is. I feel like maybe I belong somewhere, and I am not alone. But, as everything in my life does, it comes to an abrupt end.

I watch my son, and his reaction. It is so...baffling. The child that has no real connections to people outside of me and those in his daily life has almost immediately grasped on to you, and he doesn't want to let go. He has found something that allowed him to fall so easily, just like me. Watching him transform from the kid that just doesnt build social connections, to a kid who has so much love and so much need for that role model and someone to catch him when he falls...it breaks my heart to think that now I have to put him through what I have to go through each time I tear myself away.

I send us both back to the isolation and loneliness that Asheboro has become. I tell him that you are not going anywhere, and that you will be there for us both, and honestly I am no longer sure if I am telling him that to reassure him, or if I am trying to tell myself that it will not be much longer before we can simply be. I wish I saw things from your point of view, where it is so easy to be apart, but I can't. In fact, I find it increasingly more difficult to wrap my head around you and how you feel...but then again, dealing with someone who actually has feelings is so...different. At least there is no doubt about what I am telling him...I know you are not going anywhere.

I really don't want to go. I hate Asheboro, I hate Florida, I hate my mother, I hate that city, I hate being alone. I hate being where the silence gets to me so much. I really hate not being able to get up and go out once and a while. Everything about that life is something I want to forget. Slowly, things that I had shared with Josh are fading, closing, disappearing, falling...and the last will be when I leave Asheboro. That day cannot come fast enough...

I want so bad to feel ok. I want to be normal, a part of something that is not sad, isolating, depressing, lonely, etc. I see glimpses, and then I must return to life and reality, and it sucks. Now, I have to force Connor to go through it too, and my heart will break as he still suffers. I want more than anything to take him away from that. I want to give him the life he deserves. I might not be able to save Kenna, but she will be ok. Connor...I worry about him.

So, here we go again. What I would give to have this over and done with...or to simply be numb. If there were a way to numb the feelings and the pain, I would jump on it. I hate being me, being so emotional...and still so broken. Fear drives me...it grips me, and forces my mind down paths that I would rather avoid. It's like a voice telling me that I am not good enough, nor will I ever be. Sure, I've gotten better at telling that voice to shut up and get lost...but it's still there.

Why are things so hard? Why does everything in my life have to be like moving mountains? Don't get me wrong...I am so in love with you, and I would happily move mountains if that is what it took...but for once, I would like something to simply come naturally, to happen without having to hurt and dig my way to whatever end I seek.

Nothing worth doing is ever easy...

I hate whoever said that. They should be drug out into the street and shot. Why does EVERYTHING have to be so fucking hard?

Ugh. I dread tomorrow...and all I can do is hope that there is enough of a distraction to keep Connor's mind busy and off of having to say goodbye.

I love you.