A dream, a dream.

Last night, I had a dream.
About you.
The first in a long time.
It was so ridiculously peaceful.

We were aged ever so slightly. Maybe three years out of college. 
In the dream, I awoke. I heard your laugh from the kitchen, along with another smaller giggle.
I got up, went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth. (This was dumb, as it was morning and I was really hungry.) There was one sink, two toothbrushes. Two deodorants, two lotion bottles. 
I stretched and walked into the kitchen. There you were, sitting at the kitchen island with our nine-month-old son, laughing at the cheerio's he is sticking on his and your face, sprinkled on the ground. We all laugh with joy at our happy little family, at the beautiful morning, at the love we all share.
Good morning.

Mama Told Me Not To Come.

It's been.... a week.
I can't explain it. 
Sometimes I absolutely love you, want to spend every milasecond with you. 
But then you trot off to the other room to play a game with another girl (one you probably love/ed).
I don't care that you play, hell I support it. 
But if I am lower than it, then I don't know if I can do this.
Want to watch me grow up? Watch me walk out the door.
Who am I kidding, I'm not going anywhere. 

I will always be laying in the other room while you play games.  

Last post over a month ago? Unaceptable.

Lately I've felt I haven't been able to do anything right.
Last semester I was doing quite well in all of my classes. This semester, I'm doing.... average. 
I'm doing just fine in Plant Science. My veterinary grade is slipping ever so slightly. 
I'm not doing the greatest in Spanish. I mean, I know it all generally, but my spelling sucks and I can never remember everything. Thus far I have two chapters of flashcards, about 200 words.
I wake up two and a half hours early every morning to try to get them down. 
Capital of Honduras? Teg. Capital of Cuba? Lima. Capital of Uruguay? Montevido.  
¿Como se iiama? Me iiama es Lolita. 
That's probably completely wrong.
The spelling is what's getting me. Veinte, especially.
It's supposed to be 'i before e,' and that's throwing me off. 
I know the months, though. And days of the week. 
El es sabado de doce de febrero de dos mil y once. 
Boyah.


Still no friends. So, there's that. 
On the plus side, I am kind of starting to be better in U.S. History? Except, not really.


This family depends on me, and it's not easy. I'm 16-years-old, buying cat food, toilet paper, and all the groceries out of my wallet. 
And I'm starting to get low on money. I'm worried. 


This is my life. Hurray, 2011.