I just got off the phone with my baby brother (Who is seventeen) and he was crying.
Fucking crying. He never cries. I cry more than him, hell I had to go and sit in our study when I got off the phone with him because his crying and my lack of ability to be there or convince him that things'll get better set off a fucking chain reaction in me.
He and his girlfriend may have just been forced to breakup because she lives a twenty minute drive away and her parents have decided they don't want to drive her anywhere anymore. But that's not the only reason he was crying. Steffie (His GF) and me spent today at my Grandma's, he's already there for the last week because he has Mono (He got it from her and she got it from her little sister ['s plates]) and isn't allowed in the dorms while he has it. Grandma got pissed because they were sitting too close together and she's mad at him. That made him mad but he wouldn't tell Steffie why he was mad when she was there. That made Steffie mad. Her parents are mad at each other and taking it out on her.
My brother hates living in the dorms and they are constantly trying to kick him out of Job Corps.
My mother gets released from prison on April 29th and my brother just informed me that he wants to go live with her when she gets out.
He said that fate doesn't want him and Steffie together and that it's a sign. I told him no it wasn't and he said that everything that ever is supposed to be good in our life turns out to be shit.
I couldn't think of a comeback for that. He (While still crying and sniffing) said that Job Corps was suppossed to be so great and the answer to our problems--but look at it. And it's true. I felt better in general and about myself when we were living in the streets with mom and/or dad with no money. You have no hope when you're there instead of this immense false hope that this place throws at you and then keeps yanking out from under your feet.
I've been happier sitting in a Motel 6, with no food and no money, and no idea where/how we were going to be the next day than I do sitting in here. The only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning is the fact that I don't want a write-up, and even then that's because the thought of moving back across the hall with assholes I don't know scares the fucking shit out of me. I feel so depressed sometimes that I just don't want to fucking move. Best part? About two or three months ago I went to Dr. Cabianca, the psychologist for our Job Corps, and told him I wanted to see a mental health intern here again because I felt like I needed it. He said said that one of the interns would contact me by the end of the week.
It's a good thing I'm not suicidal though because I'm still waiting for one of these damn motherfuckers to get back to me.
Ignore me, I just needed to get that off my chest and yeah... that whole "lack of anyone to talk to" thing.
God I fucking hate this place. I'm really fucking tempted to go with Mom when she get's out. Fuck staying in the dorms for college. Gah man. Just...