08-10-01 @ 7:47 pm EDT

Ma--promised to be home AT FIVE-THIRTY.

Time: After seven-thirty.

Ma? Most likely at bingo. Because bingo's so important and I'm not, you know.

Dad and Eric: Outside. I don't even know how long they've been out there. I went to the door and noticed their vehicles were parked outside.

Dad and Eric? Haven't even come in yet to see if I'm even here. Dad's mowing the lawn now and Eric's in the garage, probably talking with Shannon. Thank you, Dad. I could be lying on the floor dead for all anyone cares.

Why do people make promises they never intend to keep? Unless it's in their own best interest. Yes, we did get to go to the Island yesterday. But Ma HAD to go get some coffee at Grandma's (because I'm too boring to be around, apparently) and said she would be back and we would leave at nine.

She didn't come back until nine-thirty.

So of course, we left later than we intended. I wanted to catch the ten or ten-thirty ferry, she had said we would catch the eleven, we ended up catching the eleven-thirty.

I truly, truly do wish I hadn't been born so then I wouldn't be both such a burden and a bore to my family. They never want to do anything with me the few times that I want to do something. I always have to beg and threaten to get anyone to go anywhere with me. I know I ask for a lot just living here, but I don't ask for much when it comes to attention...at least, I try not to. Because I know I won't get it. But when you want to see a movie once in a while, or when you want to get out of the house on a trip just once a year or less, or when you JUST WANT SOMEBODY TO COME HOME FOR A FEW MINUTES WHEN THEY SAID THEY WOULD, or if you just WANT SOMEBODY TO OPEN THE DOOR AND COME IN AND SEE IF YOU'RE EVEN STILL ALIVE, and you have to scream and cry for it and even then you don't get it...well, what's the point to my being here?

I wish I were cowardly enough to kill myself. I'm too cowardly even for that. I know it's the chicken's way out, but I see no point otherwise! There's no purpose for me anywhere, and nobody would be too upset if I were gone. I know a few people who say they would be, but I'm just some person they met on the Internet and they'd get over it soon enough. I know the others wouldn't be upset because they haven't even checked to see if I'm even here yet. How long would it be before they found my body?

Not that it matters. They'd probably be mad at me for making the mess they have to clean up. Like when I became angry and hit the keyboard, the table, the chair, my leg with my hand--it's still bruised and swollen--of course Ma was angriest about how I could have broken the keyboard, and not why I was so intent on hurting my hand.

You see how objects and the rest of the family take precedence over me? This is how I always remember it. Which is why there's no point for me here.