I never thought that I had any more to give <3

Music, once again, is my main escape.(: I love it.

The fact is, I know life is crazy and has its many up's&down's and that I'm bound to go through so much, good and bad, and I know not everyone is going to like me, and I know that I'm going to fight with people. I know that no matter how much you want that fairytale story, it's most likely not possible. There's just this thing. It seems like, the more you go through, the more you get hurt emotionally and physically, the more you come to learn yourself as a person and what you can handle, the more you seem to grow and stand out and learn to protect yourself. A person is so much more vulnerable if they've never been hurt. So much more fragile if they don't know what their limits are. A person is so much more naive if they haven't been through much in their life.

Sure, I know I'm still naive also. I haven't been through shit compared to some people. Through your eyes, I might seem to have an almost perfect life. But I, and I alone, know what goes on in my head, in my house, in my family. And I know that by your standards of my supposed life, the life you're exposed to, the parts that you see, things do go wrong. Things do get crappy. I do get mad. I do cry. My family does fight. I do stay in my room and tune out my parents and my brother yelling at each other. I do have people I'd want to call if I'm crying my eyes out and just need someone to be there for me. I do cry myself to sleep at night and I do spend time out just to avoid being home. I also know things weren't like this before. Things used to be fine. I used to think I had such a perfect happy life.

Then some things happened to my mom, to me, to my dad, to everyone, and we went through stuff we didn't know how to handle together as a family unit. So we fell apart. There are times when we seem like we're glued back together, almost as perfect, with just a few flaws here and there, and I want to cry with happiness. But then one of those flaws, it gets jabbed at and poked, and there we go again. Crumbling away into a dark, scary space. It's not even enclosed. We fall further and further apart, all the pieces flying and all the glue melting away. And there I am, feeling lost all over again. It just gets too much to handle sometimes.

And now Danny's gone. He can leave. He can be safe and happy in Connecticut. He can remain close to all of us over the phone, with no chances of my parents getting mad at him. He's not here anymore, for me to rant to about our parents or about Adrian. He's not here to make all those things a joking, laughing matter. And I was mad the night before he left. I was so mad at my mom, and I ran upstairs after i got home about to cry, and all I said was hi to him. He told me to look on my desk, and i found a pair of earrings. I barely could say thank you, I was choking up. That night, I think I cried all night, even in my sleep. I was thinking about my whole family and what happened to it. Then he woke me up at around 4:30 and said he was leaving. So I said bye. And he was gone. Just like that. It's just hard, that's all. It's one of the first times I've really missed him, and I don't even know why.

My family. It can't even go through one dinner at a restaurant for a special occasion without getting annoyed at each other. It's sort of like, I know we're meant for each other so we can fight and scream and yell, and know we'll still love each other. But when you doubt that you'll still love each other, doesn't that defeat the purpose of the family? You're supposed to trust them, to treasure them, to hold them dear to your heart. You're supposed to tell them what's happening in your life, they're there for you to hold you when you cry, or to be happy for you when you succeed in something. So what happens when you can't tell them much, when you'd rather be other places all the time, when you can't let them see you cry, and you still feel sad when you've succeeded in something, and you can tell they're trying so hard to be happy? It just doesn't seem right.

Go ahead. Tell me everyone's families are like that. Tell me things will get better. Tell me I'll be fine. Tell me to put on a smile and pretend I've got all I want. Tell me to be someone I'm not, to believe in things that might not be true. Tell me to accept my family as it is, and to trust that you do too. Tell me you love your family like you should, even with the fights and the punishments and the anger. How many of those things can you tell me truthfully? That everyone's families are like that. That's about it. And that's the worst of them all. Shouldn't we be better at being families by now? It seems like we have too much of everything else. Too much of friends, too much of going out, too much technology, too many things to get mad about, too many things to be protected from. Too little of focusing on what your brother or sister did in school today, on what your dad did at work today, at how good your mom's food tastes this night. Too little communication, too much putting on a show for everyone else to see. Too little of being real and genuine towards each other. I want to love my family, truthfully, for their good and bad qualities, I want them to know I'd be no one without them. I want everyone to love their families with their whole hearts. But that's sort of a lot to ask for huh? Which is so, so wrong.

Done. With this rant/post/insight/whatever you want to call it. I'm sorry if you read this. I just finally got on a roll with it. And there's so much I've needed to say, and this isn't even half of it. But at least I got this out. If you skipped here, that's fine.(: I've realized my trains of thoughts are really hard to follow anyways. So this might be majorly confusing. But if you did read it, thanks for bearing with me.(: