It's been a while and yet I feel it is best to empty my thoughts, I always feel better after anyway. I would spend a lot of my un-spare time staring through invisible bars that look out onto the swarming holiday consumers, giving in to their every requestl; mostly strawberry-banana or some creation that takes more than five minutes of their shopping time to make. No "thank you" just a measly comment about how expensive it is and an unwated penny tossed into the glass jar. Pennies I use to help people pay for pretzels. I think of it as giving back to those and maybe someday getting back kindness in return. From November 26th to December 24th, there is no such thing as patience, kindness, gratitude. Only hostility. I wonder what ever possesed me to ever want to work back at the mall again, considering it hadn't changed since the last time I worked there. My thoughts would linger from various memory as I awaited the next demanding shopper, all thoughts of course would end in him. I hold some company from my crew, a talkative bunch, they keep me well entertained and busy to forget such an anxious notion. A former employee I worked with there two years ago has come back to work the endless shifts with me. I find comfort in her presence, remanising on memories, the trouble we caused when the manager wasn't there, the trouble we still seem to create when the manager isn't working. It's all fun and games, and I wonder if I really am ready to become an adult, am I at that frame in mind or am I still a child. I spend most of my nights now at home, without Justin; a drastic transition compared to about a month ago. Falling asleep with him every night and waking up to him every morning. Unacceptable behavoirs would not be tolarated by my sanity, I could only bare the wrath of drunken psychotics for so long. It was always the constant need to get drunk or high, but towards the end of our stays I began to despize them both. I enjoy pot once in a while, I miss the constant high but a new realization had dawned on me. I absolutely hate it when Justin gets high, and I feel so uncomfortable around him. The effect creates an invisible barriar between us, created by both intoxicated minds only leading to my frustration in which I have no idea how to express when I'm high, I can't enjoy it. Some things I can like, somethings I don't. It's a once in a while thing anyway, only smoking with our younger friends carefree friends. I haven't had a single shot since my encounter with whiskey, just the thought creates a gap in my stomach and I feel as if I would vomit. I am quite aware that there is nothing being missed out on, except the ability to tolerate other drunken people around you. Besides my motherly-instincts I find them rather entertaining. I know I will eventually adapt to Justin's behavior when smoking, after all, I don't absolutely hate it. In the end I end up blaming him instead of taking a step back and realizing the wall that is formed between us could be from me as well. That is the game I guess. I lose. A constant roller-coaster is still just as continueous with my mother and I. A struggle to not push eachother over the edge is always in play. My mood has and will always form off of hers, only being older I have the ability to control it a little better. Only a few mental-episodes had resulted from my biting my tongue but it seems better. Yet sometimes it takes more than spoken for to release my truth and reasoning onto her. There are too many risks involved. My sister is constantly in my thoughts as well. I worry. She was so naive and unaware, I didn't understand how considering she was so wise and smart. Getting pulled over with illeagal plates, no insurance, no licence, operating after suspension, and un-perscribed anti-anxiety pills found in the middle consol of her jeep. I don't think she wants to acknowledge that when her court date rolls around the result will be a hefty amount of jail time. She tries hard to dis-regard the memories of previous visits to jail, for the same reasons, I would too. She was so young when she went through all of that, being kicked out of the house when she was fourteen with no where to go and having drugs take ahold of your life until you were twenty. She is lucky to be where she is now and not dead from an OD like 60% of her other friends. I remember those days too well, even for my age, I saw that it was wrong but I always saw the reason behind it. Life was too hard, there were too many hurtful memories, your own mother abandons you with no reason and you feel like you are the culpret but at the same time, what did you do to deserve such heartache? I beleive 95% of troubled children result from a poor up-bringing. Meeting so many kids like my sister, in very similar situations, I take pity but sit back and watch helplessly. For so long I got involved with that crowd, trying to help them in any way I could, my attempts would often go unnoticed, unappreciated and I took it out on myself for not being able to help them. As time went by I realized that no one cares about me and the only person that is going to help me survive is me. I am deep in thought as I sit outside in the fridig cold, a cigarette pressed tightly between my fingers. I am only saddened by my thoughts when I am alone, thinking of all my worries and troubles. Yet none of those troubles are ever about myself; Always about other people. My family in particular, and mainly Justin. I often think that he will leave me someday and that I was nothing more than a play toy, like all of the others. Sometimes tells me it wont happen, my insecurities scream at me until I think other wise. I have never loved one person more than I love him, sometimes I am appauled by how much I miss him at times. The cigarette gets to be about half gone and I struggle to not shiver, the cold eats away my body heat. I take a drag and my lungs make funny sounds, the smoke gives my asthma more of a reason to fill my lungs will green masses of death to the point where pockets of air get trapped on the way up and only a deep breath would release them. My attempts to stop smoking these cancer-sticks would go in affect for a few days, the most two and then I would have atleast one. Cigarettes had been a coping skill, I used cigarettes to not cut, to not cry, to not break windows or walls. The void would have such an emotional impact I feat sometimes that I would go insane. The only way I'd ever quit is if I was pregnant. Pregnancy is something that is common in my life. I lean against the counters and stare onto the great plains of maine, watching herds of beasts stampede through every passageway. Only the offspring would catch my attention. A happy feeling would emerge from seeing their innocence, their beauty, their wandering eyes and their movements. If you only knew what kind of world you really lived in. I would then look at the mother's and most of the time the happy feeling would vanish. Seeing their neglect and carelessness, their main focus being the people around them. The way they stuck their kids on leashes or harnesses, jerked them harshly by the arm as to scold them, screaming at them for doing something wrong. This would create a pit in my stomach, I promised myself long ago I would never treat my child like that. I had learned from all of my mothers mistakes. I had read many things on ways to raise children and formed them into my own ideas. All I know is I would be the happiest person, even at my age, to have a child. I would accept this responsibility and think of it not as a burden but as a gift, the gift I had pined for even since childhood. You couldn't have that ideal lifestyle anymore, a house, white pickett fence, a dog, and a car. That was for the 1970's. Today's day and age people have to struggle to the very edge of their nerve to survive, only the rich would be able to afford college, a decent job. The kids without money would struggle to find happiness, realize their fate, drop out and try to make a living for themselves. Money was such an evil thing and I often wished that I lived in the stories I had written where theonly survival was against demons and monsters. All I knew is that the day I find out I bare a child I will never stop working to give my child the life I never had, the life where your presence is always welcome no matter what the mood I was in, no matter how much money we had, no matter how much I missed Justin, no matter how much I wanted to turn frustration into intoxication. I would die for the chance to raise a child who turned out grateful for the effort we put in on putting food on the table, cloths on their body, a roof over their head and the mindframe to stay in school and work for a decent education just knowing there was unconditional love. Unconditional love. The subject of "pregnancy" would always occur, Justin and I had been trying for some time and I was late last time. My hopes were so high that when we found out I was not it felt like a stake was driven through my heart. I notice little things here and there now, make observations, I am emotionally fucked up anyway so I can't tell if these mood swings are from my disorder or actually the sign. Maybe I haden't eaten well in the past week but food had never smelled so good like it did today, I was constantly obbsessing over the smell of melted cheese on moistening bread or the smell of pretzels coming out of the steamer. Maybe just a sentimental mood, maybe not. I would keep my mouth shut until the 15th and then we would see. The only thing I have to go on right now is I usually have cramps a few weeks before my period, I have had none. In reality that is nothing to go on but in my book it is cause for some hope and cause for suspicion. I purse my chapped lips now and feel them burn. The cold air would cause redness around my lips, a wind burn if you would, and a minor amount of dis comfort. Non the less I would use Justin's chapstick religeously until it went away. I think of him again. He called me at work when he got home from snowboarding, that made me happy. He said to call him when I got home, I did, and then another time but the phone had been shut off. Naturally I think; He shut it off he doesn't want to talk to me. And then I tell myself to shut up and reasure that he only had three hours of sleep the previous night and would most definately be exghausted by his eventful day. Comforting at the most, it didn't help how much I missed him. I would only smile and close my eyes. Sleep would fade in and out, depending on the noises that occured outside my mind. Seven cats moving about the house. In all, the comforting smell of the christmas tree, the warmpth of my blankets, my blankly within my arms, and knowing I would be able to hold my love soon enough was comfort enough to lead my battered mind into my dream world.