I don’t really know what to feel. I’m conflicted about everything. On the one hand, there’s normal life. Normal stress that happens every day. Stuff like, will my supper taste ok? Will I get this assignment done? Can I afford to pick up an extra shift at work? Did that CD I just bought be awesome or craptacular? Did I waste money I couldn’t really afford at that music store?

Then there’s everything else.

Dad’s not doing ok. He looks okay, but inside I know it’s not okay. The swelling that the doctors were worried about is going down, but they can’t operate. He might never get better. He might die before he can see me get married, before he can meet his grandkids. The doctors are talking about giving him some medication and sending him home, but they’re running some more tests to find out why his heart has so many different pressures. That’s why they can’t operate — if they did, he would die. Just thinking about it lately has made tears spring to my eyes, but I’m trying to be brave and I don’t let mom see. I can’t imagine how she must be feeling, her husband of 23 years dwindling before her eyes. He seems to get skinnier every time I see him.

Then there’s my grades. I haven’t been doing the greatest this year. It’s a slap in the face to see a bright red F on my assignments and even one midterm. I’ve taken up some extra credit things that I barely have the time for. Of course, I’m falling behind in just about everything. I don’t know if I can pass all my courses this year, but it won’t be for lack of trying.

And there’s work. Which I really wish I didn’t have to bother with, but things are the greatest money-wise at the moment. Especially with Dad unable to work, and my parents hardly being able to help me out. Christmas will be sparse this year, I’m relying on a “handmade Christmas” to get me through. So if you asked for something material, you probably won’t be receiving it.

And then there’s company. Or lack thereof. I spent most of my days and nights alone. This weekend my mom came down and I got to go to Halifax and see Mandy. That was really nice. Just having someone to talk to, even if it’s about their problems (so I can forget about mine) is great. What happened? I used to have lots of friends. I used to be going out every weekend. I always had someone to eat my lunch with during the week. If I wanted to see a movie, it was no problem to round up a gang of girls. If I needed to talk, someone was always near, and often I found myself being someone’s listening ear. And now, here I am, practically a spinster (or I would be if I didn’t have an awesometastic boyfriend waiting for me in Texas). Me and the cat, that’s about it. It really sucks. I have all this stress and no one to chill with, relax with, talk to, or just be stupid with. So not only am I run into the ground, but I can’t help feeling that most of the people around here (that can easily get to me) don’t want to be around me. And that sucks. A lot.

So I’ll just hang out in this apartment, pet the cat and watch another movie. Maybe do some homework. C’est la vie.

Correction. C’est MA vie.