It isn't/ It is
8:05 p.m. || Friday, Dec. 13, 2002
It isn't because she broke up with me. It isn't because he made me cry for months. It isn't because the whole house is getting caught in the drain, causing us a fortune, making us poor. It isn't because I worked 45 hours this week. It isn't because I can't sleep, ever. It isn't because when I read about people who are alone all their lives and then die, I burst into tears. It isn't because I don't like any of my parents. It isn't because I feel more alone than I ever have before in my life.
It's because we're eating leftovers again. It's because I couldn't find my shampoo when I went to take a shower. It's because my shoe broke and I had to walk on one foot like a crane, and ended up sopping wet from the storm. It's because my glasses are always crooked. It's because even though I know what to do to make other people feel loved, I never know what will make me feel the same way, and no one ever tries to figure it out for me. It's because when my mom said I was too picky, I couldn't stop from crying, and I was embarrassed beyond recognition. It's because my stepfather always steps in when we're arguing, and never takes my side. It's because I'm working the 23 and the 26 and for some reason this spells out to me clearly that childhood is over, and I'll never be home during the holidays the way I used to be again. It's because I try to trust people but I'm always lying.
It's because after nineteen years I'm still the same.
C