Those Self Appointed Modern Day Saints

The brake line on She Who Must Be Kept's car blew as she was driving it home last week. Of course, we had to replace it, because that's not something you can really just go without, you know?

We got quoted a hundred dollars total. It was more than was in our budget, but it had to be paid. There was no way around it. Of course, being that my life is a funny joke to God or something, the cost was more than twice what we had been quoted. There was so much more wrong with the car than we had anticipated.

We're not returning pop bottles and counting pennies for our dinner, bus rides, gas to work, and bills. The land line is going to be turned off. I do have a cell phone, so I guess it isn't too bad. We got the scantest amount of groceries we could get away with and maybe still eat.

A friend of mine was going to clean out his freezer anyway, so he's passing all that on to me. (Or rather, splitting it between me and kid who's food stamps don't cover him.) She Who Must Be Kept isn't aware of that yet. That should be a good surprise when she comes home from work tomorrow.

My older brother had to hock his x-Box 360. He never really played it anyway, but you'd better believe we heard about how God hates him, and how his life is screwed at every corner, and how he wishes he could just get hit by a bus so this would all be ended. I had to beg friends to front me the cash for my last book rental, which I can't go without because I have a test on three chapters on Thursday. I haven't even been able to read one chapter, so I don't picture myself doing too fabulously.

What's really pissing me off though is that She Who Must Be Kept has been sitting on the damn couch and crying. She'll heave these long suffering sighs about how horrible her life is. But you know, ultimately, she's not the one who suffers. Not only do I have to suffer through this no money-barely any food-sweet Christ, what are we going to do? I get to live through HER and SETH!

I know I'm sounding very woe is me right now, but I feel that way. And maybe, right now, I'm entitled.

I'm so tired. I am just so very tired of picking myself, picking my mother up. I'm tired of carrying on. When does it get easier? When does this kind of madness stop? Everyone is telling me there's a silver lining, there's some magical pot of gold at the end of this rainbow of despair but--where is it? What could it be?

I'll lose weight because I'm so stressed and there isn't food to eat anyway? That I get to learn to be strong and poor now? No, that is ridiculous. The only good thing about this is--well, nothing I guess. I'm sorry, I just can't Pollyanna it up anymore!

This is about the time that I sit down in the middle of the road and say that I can't take one single step. Because I can't. There's just nothing more that I can do. I want to put my head down on my keyboard and cry. I want to crawl under my blankets and never wake up again.

I wouldn't say I'm suicidal. But these are the moments when I think how nice it would be to just--stop. Stop living anymore. I can't help but think how much I would love it if this wasn't what I had to do anymore.

But what's really starting to bother me is that I know no one is going to come and pull me up. There's no one that's going to save me from this except myself. I am the only one I have to rely on. This scares me, because I know my own weaknesses. I have tasted them first hand.

This is one of the nights that I am falling into a Very Dark Place, where the alarm clocks are screaming at me, and the portraits are crying tears of blood. This is the Very Dark Place that I am afraid to step past the tresh hold of, but every time I visit, I'm pushed farther and father inside. This is the place where I lay on the dank concrete floor, and stare and the Eternal Nothing that is the ceiling.

This is the place where I have come to sleep so many times. There are voices, screams, pleas. But this is the only Place that I am able to ignore them. This is the only place that I am able to feel at Peace, but even this Peace is false. I can feel my nails digging into my palms, can feel my jaw getting tighter and tighter every day.

My Very Dark Place makes me wonder why I even bother to get out. The Light is, after all, so very blinding. I can't stand it anymore, not in my eyes, not on my skin, not in my hair. At least in this Dark Place, I know what to expect. I could very easily come here to die. At least in this Silence Of All the Noise, I will find a place where I can cry out to Heaven, to my Divine, and no hear the echoing answer I've been waiting for my whole life.

These are the times I know that I am forsaken. And honestly, I don't blame the Divine.

But at least I'm not depressed,right?