masochists to which I cater.

P.S. I hate my life.

My impending relocation has left me with mixed feelings.  Sorrow at what I’ll leave behind.  Shame at the inevitable.  Anger for being so helpless.  And guilt for being alive. 

I told my mother I didn’t blame her for this.  And really, it’s not her fault.  I DON’T blame her at all.  I’m not even angry at her.  I’m angry at myself for failing, for not being able to stop this.  I’m angry at my father for being so useless.  I’m angry at capitalism for allowing this to happen. 

My mother seems to think she’s going to be kicking it soon.  She’s gone over her life insurance policy with me.  I am beneficiary to $25, 000 that I really don’t want.  Money is nothing, and yet-it’s everything.  Human nature is so fucking cruel.

I won’t miss the house, really.  I’ll miss my room, with the glow-in-the-dark stars.  I’ll miss the piano.  Hell, the piano is why I came in the first place. 

I can’t help but think God is finally getting me for everything.  Showing me he has the power to take all that he has given me.  The house, my music, my family.  He’s already taken my capacity for compassion…he should realize that nothing else matters anymore.  Home is where the heart is.  I have no heart.  Therefore, home is nowhere.  Home is nothing.  And no matter what he does, I’ll fight him to end this on my own terms.  God is a bastard.

I’m so cold.