Basement Dweller

Mom had a double mastectomy for her cancer last week and we've been getting meals from neighbors. It's a lot of food for us, even though I guess they don't know I live there. I'm 26 living in my parent's basement. I don't slack off or anything. But, when Sister Beeston says, "It's so nice of you to visit your mom," and I tell her I live there, it hurts a little bit. Admitting I can't afford to live someplace else. Free rent, free food. Am I doing enough?

I guilt myself into thinking I'm not, because what I do earns little money, but it does usually earn familial respect. So I guess it's okay to live there.

Writing is my "Therapy"

I threw up on Sunday. I wasn't sick or anything. Dad asked me if I was.

I was just anxious. "Just" anxious. I don't think that word works, but I wrote it anyway.

I didn't really get to that point in my spiralling until I had my suicidal ideations.

A doctor told me it wasn't bad enough for me to worry too much about. I'm not going to do it, but what if I did, just to spite them all?

I kept thinking I am loved. I am loved. And yes, I feel loved frequently, but not enough.

"I was loved, but not enough." Stupidest suicide note ever.

The Best Prank I Ever Pulled

As promised a blog post about a blog post. Well, sorta. It's a story my mom put on her personal blog years ago. Cannot find the blog anymore for the life of me. It was a .com site, so maybe it's owned by someone else now. As usual, different names. Just a little note, though. Harry doesn't go by his real name because his last name is the name of a popular book character, so it's like his name was Thomas Potter or something here. Therefore it was changed to Harry like Harry Potter.

Dinner time, of course. That's when the best things happen. Or the most family drama. But tonight the best thing was still to come. My sister, Alison, said that her plan that night was to go Harry's house. Alison takes a long time to get ready for anything, and is always late, so my oldest (younger) brother, Jason and I think devious thoughts. We steal her keys, open her car, put her keys back, get in the back of the car, lock the doors, and wait.

Soon enough, Alison gets in closes her door and is about to start the car when...

"Gotta buckle up!" comes from the backseat as Jason gets out from between the seats and sits up. Alison screams and throws her keys, minor injury to Jason, who still thinks he's hilarious. After more screaming over the heart attack Jason gave her, Alison gets Jason out of the car, not checking to see if that was it. Which it wasn't.

Keeping quiet between the seats in the back, covering my pale skin with a black jacket, I hear my sister turn on the car, blast music, and sing in a traumatized voice while she drives to Harry's house. He lives on the other side of our city, so we drive for ten minutes or so before we get there.

Alison gets out of the car, locks it, and goes inside. I wait a while until my toes feel frozen, get out, lock the door, and ask some guy outside if this is the house with the band kids. (On a sidenote, who the flip does yard work at 8pm at night?)

I walk to the door, Harry answers and calls into the room, "Umm... Alison... there's a little you here." My sister comes to the door, speechless. Once she gets the ability to speak, she calls our mom and tells her she needs to pick me up. My sister starts stumbling on her words. Again, she is speechless. My mom said she would be there in an hour. She had to get a good blog post about it first.

Then they fed me cake. The end.