I hate that I can't sleep anymore. The last time I had such a hard time sleeping was the summer my stepdad died. Things at home were crazy and I was still working 75 hour weeks. I would stay up until 6am; I had all the best infomercials memorized. It was the summer I watched Newsies 34 times in three weeks because it provided me with something constant. I would sleep for an hour and a half or two hours every night. I slept on the floor of the living room because I couldn't make myself fall asleep anywhere else.

This summer, no one has died. I simply get into my makeshift bed and feel overcome with worry and sadness. I stress out about the dumbest things, things I can't remember during the day but once midnight passes, they gnaw at my brain until I feel like crying. I hate crying, because I hate feeling weak. I am getting better at not being like that. I don't have to worry anymore that I will be punished for crying. Fifteen years later and I'm still worrying about that. I'm sure that's healthy. I hate feel empty and alone. I know I am loved but lately I feel very underappreciated.

This is stupid.