[ 04-30-03 ] [ 11:16 p.m.]
[ Broken ]

Three guesses as to what happened today. And the first two don�t count.

If you said �breakdown�, you know me pretty well or you�ve been reading me for a while.

And, while �today� is only April 30, 2003 for about another hour or so, today has been another horribly stressful day, at least on a par with my worst days and maybe worse than all of them yet.

Today�s breakdown saw my worst crying fit yet. I was crying for a full solid two hours before I finally got out of Hell. I woke up hopeful in my favorite bed at my grandma�s, because asking her if I could stay at her house for the next week paid off and my mother agreed. Soon after I got to school, though, I was a crying mess. As soon as he saw me, Zach took it upon himself to bother me, while I was not in the mood. First I told him to go away, then I tried to walk away, and when he didn�t leave me alone, I got mad. While telling Zach to get the fuck away from me, my 9th grade English teacher (who doesn�t remember me) called me aside, yelled at me, and called me an idiot twice without allowing me to explain why I had said that to Zach. He also had no idea, nor allowed me to explain, that I�m currently overly sensitive and calling me an idiot tripped my trigger twice.

To make matters more fun, Mrs. Johnston was out sick. I was stuck with Mr. Sebora, trying to explain to him the reason that I was a bawling mess in his office.

Don�t get me wrong � I like the guy, but he really stinks as a guidance counselor. I don�t think he listened to what I was really saying. On the upside, he allowed me to call my grandma to go home. Which brings on the �crying for a full solid two hours� part. My grandparents spent extra time at Burger King this morning, which is their usual morning outage, and it was ten to ten by the time she called to pick me up.

Bear in mind, I went into the guidance office at eight in the morning, ten minutes after school started, five minutes after my episode with Mr. Mott (the English teacher).

And somewhere between 7:45 and eight, I had a nice encounter with Mr. Nettesheim, who is of course my administrator and my old eighth grade math teacher.

Now that I�ve explained the breakdown, let me explain why I do NOT want to go to school tomorrow.

My grandma has insisted that I need to draw Mr. Mott�s comments and actions to the attention of Mr. Nettesheim. After I�ve done that, I need to go to the guidance office and meet with Mrs. Johnston and introduce her to Grandma. After THAT, my mother will be called in so I can explain to her every reason I hate living in her house.

I�m looking forward to tomorrow so much that I�m having problems sleeping.

I�ve told Grandma that I�m broken and it�s taking too much to fix me. Grandma says it�s better to take too much to fix me than to be broken.

Well, if having to confront all that stuff tomorrow is the start of fixing me, then my expectations of what it�s like to be healed are very, very high.

And if being healed isn�t much better than being broken, then I can live with being broken.

I�m doing it now.

Even though it sucks.

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