I was given homework. Believe it or not, Allistair feels that I’ve slipped so much I need a weekly homework assignment to survive from appointment to appointment. And so, here I sit, in the public library, blogging. It’s been so long that I forgot my password to this account (I remembered it eventually, obviously). I don’t particularly like the set-up of these computers because they’re all facing the same direction, which means the only people with true privacy are those in the very last row. And because computers are assigned to individuals to limit usage, you can’t automatically choose to sit in the back. It kinda sucks. As has my mood lately. I can’t explain why but it’s gotten to the point that cutting seems to be a very real option. All the old analogies of drowning, of falling off some impossibly high precipice come to mind when I want to describe how I’ve felt this past week. I was denied my graduation application because I’m short 1 or 2 credits (it’s still quite unclear) and I haven’t heard anything from any of the graduate schools I applied to. Not like it really matters in the end because I’m not going to graduate when I thought I was. Thomas sends me the usual texts pertaining to medical questions but most of them lately have revolved around our differences despite growing up in the same environment. It’s not an easy thing to explain and it certainly doesn’t make me feel like a worthy person. Even last night, I went out to dinner with my mom and Thomas and the entire ride to the restaurant was full of questions about his classes and future endeavors and applying to graduate school. Thomas is a sophomore. I sit on my ass and do nothing while he excels at everything by simply existing. It goes beyond any sort of resentment I may have felt towards him for being the “favored” sibling though. I understand that Thomas didn’t choose that, that he was simply a product of his environment, but when I try to apply the same thinking to myself, it doesn’t work. It becomes a personal vendetta against myself to find all problems and their impossible solutions. I don’t blame Thomas for his success in life. I don’t blame my parents for liking him more. I really don’t. My main problem right now is the fact that…wait…maybe I don’t know my main problem. Maybe I’m not sure where the issue lies. Has my resentment evolved into envy? Jealousy, even? Is this some sort of resignation of…life, basically, because Thomas is ultimately and fundamentally better at it than I am? That’s what I used to do when I was a kid. I would feel unique and excel at something until someone else came along that was better than me. Once that happened, once my unique-ness was taken from me by the existence of someone better than me, I quit. I hated everything about whatever I was good at. I resented the person, I hated the activity or whatever, and I wanted nothing to do with it. Maybe that’s what’s happening here. Maybe, because at one point I excelled at school, I was better at certain things than Thomas (like writing), and Thomas has come along and blown any and all performance out of the water, I want nothing to do with it. Writing was my thing, right? Then, Thomas wrote a 2-volume novel, filling 2 composition books. He continues to write a story, like an ongoing saga, about him and his friends in a mythical place that he’s contemplated sending to Cartoon Network and the like to have it animated. I’ve finished one story in my…no wait, two, in my entire life and both of them were fanfictions. They weren’t even based in my original universe. When I was in grade school, I was mixed with curly hair, that’s what made me unique. Then, all of a sudden, 2 different mixed girls were suddenly being mistaken for me and it became a game of correcting roulette, trying to convince the gym teacher that I was, in fact, Lucy and not Briana or Jessica. I want to be the hero in the story that makes such an impact in people’s lives that they can’t imagine anything before or after my presence. As self-centered as that may seem, that’s what I want. I want to be the Doctor in someone’s life. I want to be Sherlock Holmes, with my quirky residence and annoying habits that people can’t help but to love. I want to matter. And I don’t. I’m just an ordinary human being, with no exceptional skill set, that will wither and die on this miserable rock and no one will hear my flame extinguish, or care, even if they did. That’s how I feel right now. I don’t have a “real” job (I’m a nanny, if you want to be fancy), I live off the government, I don’t own any property or live in a place not owned by my parents. Literally, I am one of those people that could disappear in shows like CSI and NCIS and no one would notice for months, and when it came time to solve my death, they wouldn’t know where to begin. This is the most I’ve written in a while. I have a paper due March 1st that I’ve yet to start. I have to read 2 books for my Sociology of Mental Illness class and haven’t started. Speaking of which, that class brings up so many memories about all my inadequacies, it isn’t funny. My teacher doesn’t speak with the same political correctness that my psychology teachers do, as he shouldn’t. He’s a criminal justice professor, though his original field is social psychology. Because of that though, I feel as if I have a huge neon sign on my head that says that I’m Bipolar, that I have Borderline Personality Disorder, that I’ve stayed in places like the hospital in One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest. I’ve entrusted my entire life to the “system” of psychology and psychiatry, and for what? It’s gotten me up, sure, but up this cliff that I’m now falling back down. I don’t resent Thomas. I’ve said that. I’m past that. But I do resent my past, what’s happened to me, and all the damage it’s done to the road in front of me. I do resent that. And currently, I resent Brendan. He told me last night to “get over it, just do something.” I try extremely hard not to hold his lack of experience against him but when things like this happen, when I go through this shit over and over again, I need him to understand. I need him to be more supportive than select few were. I need him to want to change and learn like my family has to support me and get me through this. I need…I don’t know what I need. I need air, I need space, I need freedom, I need a break from my brain.