I'm Tired.

I'm being fucked pretty nicely by school right now, what with the piles upon piles of assignments just waiting impatiently to get done. Oh, and the 40 hours I'm working every week to pay for this education. Oh, and the return of my daily persistent headaches that haven't appeared since my first semester of University.

Yeah, I'm actually paying for tuition this year. In cash. No student loans, and my god did I try to get one.. Even went to my Financial Aid Officer's office, and explained my story in such detail that I was on the verge of tears.
But, the bitch didn't care.

So, what I've learned is that if my father had been a crack-head drug-dealer instead of opting to actually MAKE something of his life, I'd get my whole tuition paid for, and then some! Thank you, Ontario government.

So, I think I need a vacation.
Somewhere warm. Relaxing. Worry free. Hakuna-Matata inscribed on every wall, and carved in every tree.
OH WAIT! I can't go on vacation, cause every penny I'm making is going towards school.

So what I'mt trying to say is...

I'm really fucking tired.

That is all.

I look back on where I was at this time last year, and I now realize that I had it easy.

I don't think I've ever been this low. I had a packed day today. Class, work, then another class. A long walk home.
But I don't remember any of it.
I know it actually happened, but it feels like a dream.
I've had no appetite. I've been running on coffee and cigarettes, until I finally ate something at 8:00PM.
I have a constant headache that just won't go away. No matter how tired I am, I find it hard to fall asleep. My mind's always racing. Always trying to figure a way out of the mess that I'm trapped in.
I saw myself in the mirror today. I look at myself everyday before I leave the house, but today.. I actually saw myself. I look like death. My skin is almost a shade of yellow, my eyes are puffy and sunken into dark circles.. My weight has dropped, and I just look... unhappy. No amount of make-up can fix that.

I owe the University $4,083.72.

I don't have a goddamn clue how I'm going to pay for that.
My parents are "helping". And by "helping" I mean they transfer money whenever they feel like it... I'm not the priority. The house is the priority. My brothers are the priority. If there's any leftover change, they'll transfer it to the University.
I have 5 full-time University classes. And I'm working over 30 hours per week, while going to school. No one in their right mind does that.
And I don't hear any thank you's. I don't hear any praise, or "keep up the good work"... Nothing. What do I get? "You should have saved up more during the summer."

They told me to save up what I could. And that's exactly what I did. I stopped the shopping trips, I stopped racking up my phone bill, I stopped EVERYTHING. I worked over 60 hours a week... I threw away my whole summer. But that's still not good enough.

I don't know what else I have to do to make them realize that I am DYING. I can't handle anything anymore. I know there's something wrong with me. I'm almost positive.

When my brothers stay in their room all day and act solemn and whatnot, my mother pities them. She feels sorry for them, and will go out of her way to find out what's wrong so she can fix it.
With me? Nope. I'm just a rebellious devil-child purposely trying to make her life a living hell.

Every single day, I consider dropping out of all my courses, getting my money back from the University, and just packing up and leaving. Go to Montreal, Toronto, Halifax, Vancouver... and just start a whole new life. Ottawa hates me just as much as I hate it, and I just can't stay here anymore...

Ugh. I forgot where I was going with this. Time to sleep, or try to.

Today...

I realized that I have nothing to live for. Absolutely nothing.
I don't know what the hell I'm thinking, making these unattainable goals for myself. I've always known that I'd never reach them... I don't know who I was trying to fool.
Once again, I've learned that by being happy, I'm just setting myself up for a harder fall later on. I can't keep doing this. I don't even know what to do. I'm fucking lost.

Summer's almost over. School's about to start, and once again, I have no fucking clue how my tuition's gonna get paid off. No student loan this year.

Fuck.

Innocence.

Every summer, I work as a Camp Counselor at the Science and Technology Museum for kids ages 9 to 12. Every week, I get a new group of kids. I get my share of trouble-makers, angels, shy kids, cry-babies, you name it... But this week, I got something a little special. A 10-year-old sweet boy named Evan. He listens to us, he gets along great with the other kids, he always has extremely insightful input for all our activities... And he has cancer. It started out as cancer in his spine when he was around 5 years old, which was completely removed after two years of treatment. A year ago, his cancer returned, this time spreading to his brain. He is currently undergoing a new round of chemotherapy, with endless visits to the hospital.

On Tuesday, he decided to sit with me during our break outside. He can't run too much or over-exert himself, cause his chemotherapy caused a problem with his sweat glands (I don't know the specific term for this problem). We eventually started talking about his cancer. I was amazed at how perfectly he pronounced all the impossibly long medical terms about his condition. What surprised me most was how nonchalant he was about the whole thing. He's aware of the risks, he's aware that he doesn't have the same life as other kids... But it doesn't bother him. What surprised me most? His appreciation for life. His empathy towards those around him. His outlook on life that some people triple his age fail to grasp.

During our conversation about his treatments, he told me about how he felt guilty that his dad had to get a needle in order to give his son some of his blood when he needed it. I nearly cried at the innocence of his words.
"Sometimes, if I'm not feeling okie-dokie, and daddy's feeling okie-dokie, then they'll give him this needle in his arm and it takes his blood and puts it in a bag. I feel guilty because needles hurt, and it's not fair that my dad has to get one just because of me..."
He went on and on about how bad he felt. He hated needles, and felt horrible that his dad had to get one, and that he didn't "deserve" it. He's such a humble child, saying he feels bad that all these doctors are trying to help him all the time.

As I was choking back tears, I made him face me, and I told him... "Evan, your father is getting that needle because he loves you. He would do anything for you, as long as you stay healthy. Those doctors... it's their job, and they care about you." I don't even remember half of what I said to him. I just kept talking, until he looked me in the eye and told me that he understood. His innocence was almost heart-breaking.

I get to have him in my camp til Friday. And then he'll go back to his everyday life... I won't ever know what happens to him. Poor kid has no idea how much of a hero he's become to me... even though he's practically half my age.

...

Today, I relapsed.
I hadn't hurt myself since December of 2007. I thought it was in my past.
But I knew that keeping those razors in the secret compartment of my jewellery box would come back and bite me in the ass.
And all it took was a few lines from my father's mouth. In that voice of his, that almost has a physical strain to it cause the anger is making it break at the seams.

I hate him. I honestly, truly HATE the man. And to think he used to be my hero. I was always by his side, no matter where he went. The same man who now wishes death upon me, regrets the day I was ever born, and has no issue telling people that I'm dead.

And I have to look in the mirror every single day and be reminded that I'm a spitting image of him. I don't think I've ever felt uglier.

I thought that I was stronger. That all the obstacles I had overcome this past year alone would make my skin a bit thicker. But all I had to do was look at that tiny piece of metal, and in a few seconds, found myself back at square one.

I'm back to living life day-by-day. I'm done.