They allow you to believe there is a point to all this; your whole life depends on it; you can't live without them. The pride this cardboard, rusted-nail structure to provide happiness, success, a future. In truth, for continuous hours in and away from these walls, there is a feeling of being trapped, failing, going no where, wasting time. This morning hasn't been the greatest. I walked away from marching band practice with two sick kids at my side; one vommitting profusely every six steps, the other ready to topple over any minute. I had a long scare when I couldn't find my car keys. Finally found them and skipped off to math to fail a quiz I desperately needed to do well on. But I'm certain and I didn't and where that leaves me now, I can't say. I don't have a face on; no mask to hide the sleepless night I had, nor the worry I now feel, nay the stress that greets me behind every minute. I'm looking for goodness; a way to escape the madness. Like always, I find it here, and in a notebook, with a pen and an explosion of ink that leaves stains on a white shirt. My days are stained and I'm trying hard to clean them up. Today, I think, when school is over, I'll be alright. Kris has a swim meet I'm going to try to go to, all depending on whether or not I have to work. I should work--need to work--need the hours, the money, the experience? the everything--yet I feel that I don't need it at all. Haven't I done enough? Aren't I doing enough? When will it be enough? I know I've just come back, but I really need to leave this place. Carrie