I find these things hard to say out loud.

I am alone.
You see that?
Alone.
A-lone.
A-L-O-N-E.
Lonesome.
Lonely.
Solitary.
By myself.

My sister has left me.

And now all I have is the company of pathetically insecure mother, a tyrannical stepfather and a father who spends his days lying on the sofa browsing eBay and giving me 4-hour-long lectures on the values of proper respect.
Thanks Parissa.

God knows how I'll get through a year of this, because right now even one day is difficult. I've already noticed how much angrier I've been (to the point of kicking and pounding the door after school on Friday because my key wouldn't work) and much more my father is infuriating me. I'm sorry, but WHY spend ALL DAY, EVERYDAY on eBay looking at cars when a) you can't afford one and b) you don't even have bank account, so HOW would you pay for it.
I realise I give my father a bad name, but you have to understand, my mother's just as awful.
Sure, she doesn't lecture, she doesn't shout at me, and she doesn't spend all day on eBay (she even goes out from time to time), but in some ways that's worse. She tries so hard to please me, but how the hell am I suppose to tell her it's TOO LATE? That when I really could have done with her being a proper mother (i.e. when Taraneh and Parissa used to lock me in cupboards, when she called the police against my father, when someone hurled racial abuse at me as I crossed the road, when Jessica died) she couldn't be bothered. She only started caring when Taraneh left, when she finally realised, "Ooh, maybe all this may just be EMOTIONALLY SCARRING for my children" but by then she was FOURTEEN YEARS TOO LATE. And that's a pretty wide margin. It's not like "Oh, sorry I'm late, shall we start now?". It's the dust-gathering, torturous kind of late. It's a bit hard to pick up after that.
Oh, she really makes my skin crawl. Like when she says little things that you can tell are supposed to 'connect' us. Jesus, they make me want to throw up.

And what's even worse is when she's with Taraneh. It's like she knows RIGHT THEN that she might as well put her energy into a daughter who actually likes her, so she acts all 'young' and 'funny' and joins in all the 'let's rip Yasamin to shreds', because Taraneh's not just her daughter, she's her FRIEND. Well, lucky her. I don't think I can even be bothered to start about Taraneh. The energy that would take just isn't worth it. I'll just say that I refuse to let her anywhere withing touching distance of my books. Why would I let her destroy what just might help me get through this year unscathed.

Apart from my friends, of course. They'll be the real medicine. And people wonder why I love school so much. It's not for the homework, believe me. It's for Cat and Harry and Megan and Ellie and Leanne and Edie and Alice and Millie and George and France and Francoise and EVERYONE.
And it's only a year. Only a year. Only a year. Ha.
But think of all the years after that! Away! Oh, I wish everyone else was as excited about the UCAS process as I am! =D

And I should be happy for Parissa, because she finally got out, and she's happy. You didn't see how eager she was to get rid of us on Monday. I would be too. And I will be. Next year. I've been patient for so many years, one year is nothing, right?

RIGHT.

What's really funny, or not funny at all as it happens, is the the last thought I had before we left Parissa. There we were, pulling out of Flodden Road, Camberwell, when it hit me. The fact that, I'm not mad at Parissa because she is leaving... I'm mad because I'm not. It's not exactly jealousy, more bitterness. But if I'd only been born a couple of years older, our positions would be reversed, so maybe I'm glad that it is me. Because like the rat that I would save over me, or the cat over the painting, I wouldn't wish this on anyone else.

And, you know.
It's only a year.

"The search ends here/ Where the night is totally clear/ And your heart is fierce/ And you can finally know that you can see where you're going/ You can steer" - Steer by Missy Higgins

STUPID, SHINY VOLVO DRIVER.

My copy of Eclipse came, after SO LONG of waiting. Although, I'm not sure whether or not I was worse off before.
Don't get me wrong- it's SO GOOD. SO GOOD IT HURTS. SO GOOD IT'S INFURIATING. AAAAAAARGH.
Edward Cullen is, as usual, his perfect self and Jacob Black is, as usual, NO COMPETITION. All the way through, I was just thinking "HA HA HA, sucks to be yoooou". Apart from the times I was crying, of course. Actually, I lie. I didn't cry at all. I'm far too hardcore for that. =D Or maybe it's just that I could tell what would happen, so nothing in it could upset me THAT much. Not like when Rudy died...

BUT LET'S NOT GET INTO THAT.

Megan had a partay on Thursday, which was immense. It was soooo good. And although we all went to school on Friday feeling like shit and had to have our photos taken, I could't have been happier. Actually, a couple more hours of sleep may have cemented the joy. But it was a good night. And I just found it so easy to get on with everyone there. Like at Leeds, I just liked EVERYONE. The Lady Manor's lot were made to seem so SCARY, but they're lovely. And, of course, there is everyone else, like Alice and Alice and Edith and Eleanor and Emma and Robyn and Frances and Krishna and Greg. Speaking of the last three...HA HA HA. I had almost forgotten how much fun a good old skirmish could be. Especially when I win. Which I almost always do, because people underestimate me. I'm stronger than I look. That's what comes of being the youngest and smallest (by a wide margin) of six children. Granted I didn't grow up with two of those, but the three that were left were definitely enough to contend with. At least enough to enable me to wrestle a harmonica of Krishna and accidentally- yes, guys, I just don't know my own strength XD- incapacitate Greg and Krishna. I think my stubbornness played a big part though. The boys weren't the only ones who were injured!
I must say that party was probably better than the one's we had in the holidays, if only cos everyone was there (except Marshy of course). And I like Megan, and her house. It's comfortable. It's not the kind of house I would be afraid of, like mine. My house always makes me laugh, because I realise sometimes just how much of a rarity having people round is. Like, once a year maybe, I have people round. And I don't mean for a party. I mean, people. Stopping round for more than five minutes. Not even necessarily people. Maybe just one person. ONCE A YEAR. I guess I already used up my quota for this year then. I think it makes me a little bit sad, because it's only because of my stepdad. I can't wait to leave. It will be easier then.

But until then, I have a year. A year is a long time. Especially without Parissa.

I should stop now, because otherwise I will repeat myself next week. You see, I have already forseen next week's blog. It will be a horrible, pathetic tirade of depressive, self-pitying shit. And then the week after I'll read it and laugh at myself. And then a couple of weeks later there will be another. Repeat the cycle until September 2008 when, with any luck (ha. Me. Luck.), I will finally get to do what I've dreamed of for years. Leave.

"I already know how strong you are. You didn't need to break the furniture." - from Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer