I sit here on the train, absolutely exhausted- both physically and emotionally- and yet I still insist on dragging out unfavourable thoughts. My house...oh lord it was bizarre. Brutal even. I thought it would be okay, I mean I saw it online on Saturday morning, my family room furniture was in the new place, hell I was almost feeling pretty okay about things. Then of course I went to a movie with Kayden that all starts out with a girl's parents getting divorced and at the end of the movie I was crying. It just all hit me I guess. Everything that I had carefully placed on hold just for the weekend crashed down on me tenfold. I took a cab back with him to 'home' and as soon as I walked in the living room I was bawling my eyes out again. Heh, it's hard to think about it without wanting to cry again. As I stepped into my house, I knew that this wasn't it at all. It was as if some robot family had moved in and we were the secret little mole people whose stuff was hidden in closets and under the beds. As I moved from my living room into the dining room, Tiger came strolling in and I had to pick her up...she was some sign of life of which I desperately needed to be reassured. She of course, dorky unintelligent little thing, was a part of my past, the past that I had seemed to leave behind after Christmas. It was a mistake coming back after all of the staging had been done. I should have come back sooner. I went down to the basement to where Mum was watching TV. The basement wasn't too different, just ridiculously less cluttered and with the drum set missing (Alan had a gig that night). After letting her know I was home, I finally picked up enough courage to go up to what used to be my room. It's beautiful, and not mine at all. The one place that was my safe haven all through grade 9, the one place that I could claim to be mine, my room, with so many memories, good and bad, had disappeared from under my nose. Even the walls were a different colour. But Snowy was there. Squeaking away. Again, I was bawling. I guess I've never really dealt with change well; when I was really young I would start wailing when a movie would end, even if we had it on video and restarting it again was as simple as rewinding the tape. I sat on my new bed for a while before venturing to my tiny closet and pulling out my blazer from grades 9-11. As I ran my fingers over the fabric all I wanted was to just travel back. To go back to where I was needed, where I was important and known, where people would be around me always to make sure I didn't fail and would give me the kick in the pants that I needed to get back on track.

I guess I'm just tired. I'm so tired of being sad all the time. Of course there are moments- moments when I can almost forget about everything, moments when I can laugh, moments when I have fun- but they are always jaded in the end. If I knew when I'd be happy again, I think it would be better, I think I would make it through alright, but the thing is I don't. I don't know when I'll be happy, when I'll be back on track, and the unknowing is worse than anything else. The unknowing is when my inner critic is at it's strongest. That's why I ask questions- of myself, of reality, of other people, even if I won't like the answer, it's always better than not knowing. I can't deal with that. As soon as I know what's going on, I can cope. That's how I work. I just need to know, or need to be ignorant completely. But since complete ignorance is an anomaly, I just want to know.

So here I sit on the train, next to an elderly woman who I think hates me, across the aisle from a woman of whose head I could rip off, with the smell of burning rubber every time we stop, and I just want to turn around and go...I don't even know any more. Home? Home doesn't exist right now. Home in Montreal is full of dirty laundry and an ironing board in the middle of my bathroom. It's riddled with school problems, failed commitments, staff who couldn't care less if you pass or fail. Home in Toronto is a cottage that is filled probably with more tension and frustration and anger than good times. Home in Toronto is a robot house with my mum sleeping in what used to be my room. As much as someone can say that home is where I make it, that the new place will be home, they're wrong. Moving from one house to another is one thing- you're aware of it, you're prepared for it, you know what you're supposed to do. Having your home transformed and snatched away is another thing entirely. Home is where your heart is, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you where that is. Maybe I left it on a bus somewhere.

I won't become an alcoholic. The thought scares me to such a huge extreme. I can' depend on substance. I can't put my body through that. It's one thing to be emotionally fucked, it's another to take it out physically. I'm starting to feel better by getting into shape. My goal really is my 18th birthday. I want to be healthy and as back on track as I can be with school. By that time my audition will be over. Weird. My mummy packed me a lunch today. Well she bought stuff from a bakery and put it in a bag. It was sweet. Brie and apple and walnuts. Sooo tasty. Heh. Hardly any time left on my computer. I should see how much a second battery is. That would be eternally useful. Well maybe not eternally considering a computer only lasts about 5 years. Ah well. Whatever.

I have a scar on my ring and middle finger of my left hand. Kayden and I were out together; I was blading, he on his skateboard. We were on a pretty cracked sidewalk and he was on the road at times. He was about to come up and jump onto the sidewalk in front of me and I warned him not to in my usual threatening way. He did it anyway and to avoid running/tripping over him I went onto the grass. Unfortunately my blades didn't catch until the grass had finished and cracked driveway was in my way. I fell and scraped all down my forearm and the backs of my fingers on my left hand. I always wear wrist guards which was lucky because I had hit my hand in a way that I'm sure would have damaged my wrist quite badly if I hadn't been wearing them. Yay for safety.

I have about 2 minutes left before this is going to shut off. -sigh- Well I suppose I should end this with reasonable closure instead of it just cutting off. So until it's right, I have hope and I have faith. Someday.