These Bonds Are Shackle Free, Wrapped In Lust And Lunacy

Well, the most eventful part of my drive home has already been posted on Linus' blog, so I'll just say "Fuck Montana" and leave it at that.

Instead, I'm writing the mopey post I promised certain people. Okay, here it goes:

I should never have come back here. I should have just visited for a week or two, picked up my kitten, and then shacked up with one of you back in Laramie until it was time to go to OSU next fall. I know this makes me a bad daughter, but that's how I feel.

I've been back a little over 24 hours, and I'm already wallowing in abject misery. The cold and pink eye aside (by the way, Mary, if your doctor hasn't figured out that it is, in fact, pink eye, you need to find another doctor), my mother has started smoking inside again. She used to smoke outside, but not anymore. I'm allergic to cigarette smoke, and so I'm itchy, my eyes burn, my throat is closing up and I can barely breathe.

My grandmother has gotten worse. Worse than she was at Christmas, even. Let's suffice it to say that I had to wait 6 hours to take a shower this morning and we have to install a lock on the inside of my bedroom door. I know my mother needs help and needs some time away from this mad house, but that doesn't make dealing with Gram any easier. Especially when she thinks she's in a nursing home and gets really hostile because she hates nursing homes.

Then there's my mother. Don't get me wrong, I love her a lot and she's thrilled to have me home. But she's still a mother. I just don't have the patience for constant mothering anymore. I made the mistake of telling her that Liz and I think I am anemic. Ever since then, she's been harping on me about it. When I went to the doctor today to get some meds for the pink eye, she told me to ask him about it, get some blood taken, and get perscription strength iron stuff. When I didn't do that, she yelled at me and muttered to herself that she should have gone with me to talk to the doctor. Because at 23 freaking years old, I can't possible make these decisions for myself. And this is just the beginning. Expect more rants in the future, after the novelty of having me home wears off.


But mostly, I'm upset that I'm separated from my friends. This is going to sound super pathetic, but this is the first time in my life that I've had real friends that I can count on. I'm not good at making friends, and up until now the friends that I had were either more like acquaintances or were incredibly fucked up. My best friend since junior high, Tina, was one of the latter. As much as I loved her (and still do), she was downright abusive some of the time. She had a lot of personal problems that she took out on me. I was lonely, weak, and in some warped way, I guess I thought I was helping her by letting her get her anger out. She's a lot better now, but of course, I don't live near her anymore :(

My sister Brook is awesome and hilarious, but she's much more conservative than me, and there's a lot I can't tell her for the same reason I can't tell my parents. She won't understand and she'll freak out. It's hard to hide large parts of yourself from someone you're close to.

Monika...well, those of you who know the Monika story know what a fucking mess that was.

Corey's a nice person, but I couldn't count on him. His substance use and depression issues were always a bigger part of his life. Also, I think if we'd stayed together much longer, bedroom issues would have eventually arisen.

And those are the only people I have ever been really close to. Ever. You guys in Laramie are not only fairly well adjusted, but I feel like I can count on you if I need help. It's the first time I've ever felt like I was any sort of a priority for my friends. It just really hurts to have left that behind. That's why I cried so much the day I left (sorry about that, by the way).

I hate it here and I want to come home.