Today, I had to take the bus home. But it was an enlightening ride. No, the ride itself sucked. The people still suck. But as I was sitting there, wishing I was ANYWHERE else, I caught a flash of light in my glasses. Upon focusing my eyes a little differently, I could see my eyes reflected back at me. I love that.

And if you're a little weirdo like me, that turns into some philosophical thing, where it's like, you're forced to look at and into yourself, yada yada.

But I forgot about it within five minutes, as usual.

Yesterday, I got a phone call from my dad. The conversation basically started with: "I just wanted to give you a call to let you know what is going on."

...

Don't EVER say that unless you are planning some sort of get together and the plans have suddenly changed or if something is wrong, because it scares the shit out of you.

Turns out, something was wrong.

My grandfather (my dad's dad) had a blood vessel burst in his braing causing him to lose his short term memory. Most people who have this type of stroke lose their memory for 15 minutes or so, or at least that's what my dad said. Jack lost his for seven hours. They ran tests on him last night and this morning at the hospital and my mom told me something about him having a clogged corratid (sp?) artery. Talking to Desiree today, she said her aunt had the same stroke. Three or four weeks before she died.

How promising.

Then I came home and had a dream that Betsy and Jack killed themselves, so I ran out of the bathroom crying and everyone was asking me what was wrong, so I told them. Chrissy was like, "You have to look at it in perspective." So I started screaming at her and then I woke up. Very strange dream.

It's odd. It kind of upsets me, I mean, he's my grandfather and all. But it's not like I know him all that well or am close to him or anything. I think it's more the fact that another person I know is close to death, and all that. I always said that once people I knew started dying, that's when I would feel old. And there you have it. Craziness. I guess it's that "sense of one's mortality" thing. Really gets under your skin.

And it's pretty much official now, my brother has decided to keep himself parked at my dad's house. Staying all nights there, catching the bus from there. Whatever. It doesn't bother me. He's hardly ever here anyway. Not like I care or anything.

Until I was cleaning my room, listening to Better Than Ezra, and found our rummy scores from the beginning of the summer. Then my face got that wrenching look it does when I think I might cry, but I really don't feel like it and I'm just being sappy. He and I used to be so cool. And now.. I'm positive part of that kid I used to know is locked up safe inside him somewhere, but who knows if it'll ever see the light of day again. Or if it's just wishful thinking on my part.

And now I'm back to not caring again.

Fuck this growing up and growing apart. Fuck families, fuck individuality, fuck me, fuck death, fuck life. Fuckfuckfuck. Look, I'm grown up now.

Am I an angsty teen yet?