Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Wow, so the past few days have been absolutely astounding. Yes, I am awe-struck. However, as evidenced by the title of this post, this awe-stricken-ness defies the positive connotation that is there. No, I am awe-struck at the frustration.

Let me first note that I am, in fact, menstrual. As much as I hate to admit it, this probably has quite a bit to do with my cheerleader-esque outlook on life at the moment. Not only is it hormonal, but it is the worst period I've had yet. I am literally sitting in puddles of blood most of the time. I have blood running down my leg on a regular basis. Even the most absorbent maxi-pads that exist are not enough to control this one. Every time I sit down, the dried blood on my ass cracks, and pulls every God-be-damned hair I have in the region. It's not just in the canyon, but on the sides overlooking as well.

No, details were neither necessary nor asked for. But I just thought you should know.

Waking up to a wet bed every morning, despite the fact that I could've sworn I was over it by the time I was five (Jesus loves me, this I know...), means shower first thing. It's like I'm being reborn every morning! I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm bloody, and I'm so very angry. Good morning world! Here I come!

So, I wake my brother, quickly wash up, and wait for him to get his lazy ass out of bed. This is usually at least twenty minutes. Fantastic. On two or three hours of sleep, because I've been up late the evenings prior, I wait, I help, I smile and giggle and try to make his day a little cheerier. He responds with gruff grunts, and bitching. But, I don't have to walk to school, so I ignore this.

A note on the evenings before; though Popeye is amazing, he frustrates the fuck out of me. I say "I have to go" because it's, oh yes, 4 am, and he bitches. He whines. He does anything he can to get me to stay. He knows that I can't leave if he's saying something. I'm OCD like that. He uses that to his advantage. Then, he immediately follows this up with "Yes I am stalling." and "I always feel so guilty when you stay up late to talk to me." This, of course, is every night. Fantastic. If you feel guilty, let me go to sleep after our four hour conversation, hm? BAH!

Anywho, back to the morning. So, on two hours of sleep, I try desperately to get schoolwork done. This is made easier when I'm not dizzy every God damn time I try to stand the fuck up, and sitting in a squishy puddle every time I'm seated. I can't wait until my ass finally gets its chapping this time. It's going to be awesome.

Suffice to say, I usually end up going to bed for a few hours. Until about noon. When I wake up, with a delightfully splitting headache now, along with the consistent cramps, I finish my schoolwork, and begin cleaning the house...as every day. Alone. Again. If I don't, school-boy bitches because he thinks it's easy for the assholes who sit on their asses all day to clean. He doesn't want to have to lift a fucking finger. Y'know what? He chose to go back to public school. Nobody made him. And he has been given many chances to choose to come back home. He wants to go to school to play with his friends, and then come home and not have to do anything. He doesn't do his homework, he goes and plays with friends, and he texts, and he bitches.

Today, he apparently talked to Mom about going to a friend's house. I texted him four times asking where he was. As usual, he ignored my texts. When he finally gets home, after I found out where he was because Dad called him, I giggled and said "Y'know, some day you may want to answer a text of mine." I wasn't being bitchy. I was just making a joke about it. The only reason I said anything was because Dad suggested it. I told him that my brother would get mad. But I mentioned it anyway. And, guess what? He got mad. "You sent me the message AFTER Dad called." he snapped. I told him that I'd sent about four, and he snapped "No you didn't. You sent me one!", now exasperated, his voice rising in volume. I just said "Okay." and walked away.

Later, we were playing Guitar Hero. I was listening to a song, and said that I was going to play that song after I was done listening to it. So my youngest brother ran to turn the game on, and play a song before me. The middle one wanders out from the dining room and "calls" the turn after the song...silently. So, I go to play, and he goes "I called it!" and rushes and takes the guitar. Okay, whatever, right? So then, he finishes his song and rushes over to the computer, all excited. He told my brother and I to turn off the TV, which we did with some argument, and then started playing this song. "That's Taking Back Sunday!" he proclaimed, all proud. My youngest brother and I had both heard it, and we smiled and said, yeah. So he gets all pissed off and goes "Fuck you guys!", puts the headphones in, and ignores us for the next half hour.

Then, after he's left to hang out with friends, he comes back and goes to do his homework. Obviously he's upset that I don't give up the laptop the moment he walks in the door. But, hey, I was in the middle of something. We've another computer that works perfectly well. We were doing something together, and he got a call and ignored me, as usual, and then left. Go figure. I've never done that. That's probably why I never leave the house, of course. I put time with my family before time with my friends. But meh. Regardless, so I was busy with the laptop. As he walked out of the room, I offered my help with homework. He responds with a reluctant mumble "Uhm, I think so, maybe." Does that sound like a yes to you? Because when I came to him later and asked again, he got all pissed and said "Well not now. But yeah, that would've been nice." I returned with "You didn't ask for help." and his response was "You asked and I said YES!"...with more cussing. I threw up my hands and left the room, speechless. I wanted to scream. So his response was to slam something or other and throw shit around the room as he stormed off, screaming about everyone being bitches, and how my youngest brother and I were in a horrible mood and he had no idea why. My youngest brother goes to be a part of the conversation with Dad, and Dad tells him to leave. So he does, after a bit of a fight (for which Dad got angry).

However, when my youngest brother went in to complain about school-boy's terrible mood, school-boy keeps getting up and going in there. Of course Dad doesn't kick him out. Then, something was said, and school-boy flips right the fuck out. He starts screaming about how he wants to kick my youngest brother's ass, to punch his face in, because he's such a "prissy little bitch"...which is definitely a delightful thing to say. He storms off when Dad tells him to quit, and screams about how everybody...well, not Dad...is making fun of him and being an asshole to him and he's just stressed because of OGTs and everyone's just pissing in his Wheaties. I have not said a word this entire time, while he's telling me that I'm freaking out. He's saying that he can't talk about it with anyone right now because he's going to hit someone, which ends up shutting people up, of course, but he does not stop talking about it, does he? That usually means you stop talking about it, too, doesn't it? So I leave the room again, frustrated at words being put in my mouth. He screams "FUCK YOU!" after me.

Dad then laughs when I don't want to talk about it, while he's telling everybody that school-boy is just stressed and just because he's being mean doesn't mean we have to be. Great, so we just take shit? And again, I've said nothing. Finally, I end up pointing this out, and say that, regardless of stress and depression level, school-boy's behavior is not really justified. I've been stressed and depressed for weeks, and I've not been mean to anybody. I've shut up and done what I needed to do.

I've not complained about my period, or about my frustrations, or about the fact that my family is spiraling out of control again and nobody's doing anything about it, or the fact that I want to cut so badly again that it hurts, or the fact that I don't know if I can handle the online relationship thing with someone I'm so attached to, or the fact that I want to kill myself again.

I finally mentioned my period to my parents a bit ago. They said that they'll get school-boy up tomorrow morning, and I should just sleep.

There's nobody I can tell about the other stuff.

Nobody'd understand.

Everyone would be mad.

What happened to my awesome "keep everyone at arm's length" attitude, huh?

I used to be so good at it!