Accomplished today: laundry, rat maintenance, reread The Phantom Tollbooth...

All between violent bursts of crying (haha, another one coming, I so suck).

I hate the fact that my father is back. He's not acknowledging my presence anyway, so I probably shouldn't be bothered, but just the fact that he's in the house is making me unhappy. Feels like I can't breathe; I got used to being able to actually live in my house instead of holing up in my little room and surviving on Diet Coke and the Internet.

God, I'm so sick of drowning my pillow in tears and snot. When will this just end? Never, never, never, and I'm so tired of these emotional maelstroms that I can't predict or control and that leave me feeling even more broken. I just want to go back in time to when I was still able to function sort of like a normal human being.

I whine too much, but I have no one else to talk to...