I hate being here. This is not home.

Yes, Family is here. But that is all. They all have their own lives. I'm just a passenger in a car, able to help fix a flat tire every once in awhile. Bustlebustle things to do for them but not for me. Waiting, killing time gaps in life between minor planned events.

No books, no stereo, no writing, no friends, no school.

I hate this. Vehemently.

Three. More. Days.