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