I've decided to make this entry a long one, so beware. It's going to be my explanation entry, why I think I get so upset at stupid things. Why I get so angry at little things. I wrote a letter last night. The letter. No-one knows what I'm talking about. I get upset when people are angry with me, because I used to hate it so much when my dad got angry with me. He kind of lost his ability to control his anger towards the end, and he used to shout and me and mum. I have memories of him in his wheelchair in the kitchen getting really angry because he couldn't go upstairs. I don't know whether it's because it reminds me of him, plain and simple, or whether it's something to do with the fact that my last memories of him are of him either being angry with me or being so upset that he was going to die. I don't know what really went on in his head, and I never will. As long as I live, I will never get to search my father's brain for some trace of the fact that he didn't want to leave me behind. Mum tells me it, but I want to know that he loved me. No-one really cares about him anymore. He's just that anonymous figure that no-one ever knew. Because I've moved to secondary school, because they didn't know him, they can't fathom how much this tears my heart into so many pieces. How can I say I loved someone when all the love I will ever have will be placed in memories and forgotten words? I can't possibly imagine what will happen in my life, but I can't imagine ever losing the memories that have been burned onto the surface of my brain. The day I went to visit him in hospital. The itchy blankets, my innocence. How can I not have noticed that everyone around me knew he was dying? I was only a child, I didn't know the effects of what they called 'cancer'. All I knew was that I would do anything to make my Daddy better. And then there was that time in John's house I thought was a party. My mother knelt in front of me and told me my father was dead. How can she have done it? I certainly couldn't have. That little girl, the one I thought I knew, didn't cry. She didn't show any emotion. But she didn't talk either. For three days she was silent. And then, she asked her aunt "is it true my daddy's dead?". If a little girl who's daddy had died 7 days before her 6th birthday had asked me that, my heart would've broken there and then. But she didn't. She told me what happened. And now the little girl has grown up, into something that I don't know anymore. She's gone somewhere I don't want to go, being someone I don't want to be. And I have to ask myself: "How did I get here?" I can't feel anything anymore. I've gone numb. I didn't cry once through writing this. Admittedly, I have bitten my lip once or twice, but no tears have escaped these eyes. Where has the feeling gone? Why don't I feel any sadness or happiness anymore? There's a front of belonging, there's a front of knowing, but truly, really, I don't know what the hell I'm doing here. All I can ask, Lord, is that you save me.