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January 15, 2013
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Dear Diary:

Day 5 of my super stupid cold.

*insert sigh here*

I hate this. Being sick. I never get sick and now I am. Runny nose, sneezing every two minutes, shaking so bad my teeth rattle and having a fever well over a hundred…

Yep.

I have the flu.

All I want to do is lay in bed and hope this thing just passes quickly. But… I wish I didn't have to be so alone.

Preggers is not allowed to come in for fear she'll get sick and having a fever might affect her as her husband read in a report the other day and Charlie's the only one who dares come inside to bring me soup and make sure I'm warm. You'd think he was a mother with the way he watches over me.

Thanks to him I'm not going insane or bursting into tears as I am dying to do whenever the door closes and I'm left all alone.

I start thinking about the many times I've taken care of the others… always making sure Preggers didn't lift things too heavy before her husband finally came back. Always making sure Charlie ate enough in between the many chores so he didn't faint of hunger or exhaustion. About a month ago, helping Preggers fish her husband outta the lake because the swimming lesson didn't go as smoothly as planned. Taking care of Mr. Photography when he was bedridden with the flu was another thing I did.

All the others at least care enough to visit me once a day at least. But I wouldn't want them to get sick so I tell them to leave. But Mr. Photography is becoming an enigma.

I wish I could say it was in the good sense. But I gotta say it like it is. It's not.

I mean his sister, I get. I don't think she really likes me very much. But at least she's good at pretending. I know I, and the others, annoy the hell out of her, but it's not like we asked to be here. And while others found it easy to leave we're having a bit more difficulty trying to do the same. At least I am.

I've lost count of how many times I've tried to just leave all together so I don't bother any one anymore. But I always find myself back where I'm not really wanted even though I am needed.

But I know Charlie doesn't mind me here. He likes the company, he says. He doesn't like feeling lonely and as of late there's been a lot of that feeling although he would never tell. He's too modest for that. Saying something like that would only prove how weak he is even though he is probably the strongest person I know. I just wish I could help him more but I'm at a loss.

At least he has someone to love. Someone who I think worries about him even though she rarely shows it. Come to think of it, sometimes her attitude can be misread and I could almost compare her to the Monster. That guy that calls himself dad that makes Charlie do a shit-ton of chores and if they're not done by the time he gets back home he quickly becomes aggressive. Both verbally and physically. But Charlie… he's learned to hide that and he just laughs it off so as not to worry any one. But I see right through him. At night when he thinks no one is watching he'll curl up in a ball and hug his pillow tight and thinks aloud how many times his life was almost taken from him and Death keeps sparing him just to make him suffer more than he needs to. Cursing Death time and time again and wishing for his misery to end. Each tear and quiet sob, piercing till I too feel the hurt.

But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and those are the words he painted on his wall where he could see them. And every time he wakes up he takes a minute to himself and repeats the words as if they were his personal prayer. But only I've been witness to it. He may pray to whatever god is out there but he and I both know there's no such thing as divine help. If there were we wouldn't be in this painful surrounding in the first place.

Obviously the fact he is always hiding how truly hurt he is on the inside, doesn't really help. If only, it makes matters worse.

He's now got this habit of scratching his arms when ever he gets anxious and seems to barely realize he is inflicting pain on himself. Just last night after a fight with "the dad" he went through, what I've begun to call "A crisis". He ended up throwing out of his closet a bunch of things and hiding there while scratching his arms so violently he bled. I found him and had to knock him out before he hurt himself further.

He'll wear long sleeved shirt for about a month till the wounds heal completely. But it doesn't matter. It's not like anyone really pays attention to what happens and he's so very good at hiding it, it's almost scary.

But I know better.

He'll keep having these "Crisis" moments and bury himself into a little black hole in his mind till one day he won't be able to get out. Not without help at least.

Help that seems will never come, probably because it's too frustrated to notice or simply doesn't realize it.

But I hope help will come for him soon so he doesn't have to pretend anymore. So he doesn't have to be afraid of what others might think of his changing ways. At least help could strive to be good company given he won't just open up as is his default.

Good company is always needed.

Especially when you're sick. But it's not like you can obligate people to accompany you. No matter how much you love them or how much they say they love you, you cant force them to keep you company when you most need it.

Like Mr. Photography.

Although I'm pretty sure he hasn't even heard I'm sick yet, I'm that sure he hasn't even asked. Always taking pictures and keeping to himself is sort of his deal and I get it but… would it kill him to check in once in a while and check if I'm still alive and breathing?

But I blame nobody but myself. I had an illusion of having my own love story, my own fairy tale. And now that I've climbed down my cloud nine, I'm realizing things that hurt.

I'm not a princess.
This isn't a fairytale.
Happy endings are hard to come by.
Love stories are only for Hollywood movies with great actors that make you feel what they want you to feel.

And I am indeed a stupid girl for thinking that all that could actually exist.

They exist for others. But not for me. There's always an exception but I'm pretty sure I'm not it.

And I sit here, keeping the engraved ballet slippers he gave me for Christmas close at hand and looking through the pictures of the album of pictures he gifted me with things that reminded him of dancing including pictures of me, rain drops and various little critters and plants dancing in the air to the music of nature.

And even as the tears roll down my cheeks and I think of everything that happens each and everyday, I can't help but hope that someday… someday soon… our luck will change.

I'll find my own happy ending just like Preggers did. Just like my brother Carlos did. Like my cousin the Queen did, along with my distant family members, the Sun and the Moon and the Morphing Teens

And if it's not a happy one then at least it'll be just the end and I won't ever have to feel again. I'll probably disappear into my own little black hole, like Charlie… And hope against all hope that I might at least smile, since I haven't done that in a while.

Eri here. Over and out.
4th entry.

-Eri
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