I can't really think of a title.

I don't know what's going on with my life. That scares me and it should. Although, I am finding it harder and harder to deal with the pressure of school, friends, and family. I'm becoming unmotivated and unhappy at school. My mom and I are fighting more. This is not my life. I feel like I am a different person around certain people, and it's not by choice. I feel forced to portray a certain being just so everyone I am around can be happy. But, what about me? I'm not happy.

It used to be that if I could make another person happy or feel better in life, then my mission was accomplished for the day. Nothing else mattered. I still am that person. That is my nature. I love everyone and I feel it is my job or destiny to please people. Lately, I've realized that being a constant people pleaser is a lonely job. If you try to be the perfect person for each and every person, you become different people and lose yourself. You forget who you are and what you really think. Trust me; I've been a people pleaser for the past 17 years. Because of that, I feel like no one truly knows me as me. At that point, one tends to fall into a depression.

Depression seems to run in my family. My Auntie G is always battling it and takes medicine to keep it behind her as she goes on in her day to day life. She is such a hard worker. She's at work until about 10 pm and doesn't usually come home until the early morning. She takes care of her mom, her son, and his daughter, Briana. I love Bri. She is my favourite cousin and we always have fun together. She has it harder than most kids as every since the day she was born she's had medical problems. The doctors predicted that she would never be able to walk and die around 6 or 7. She's now 14 and starting high school. It hasn't been an easy road, but nothing can bring her down. At first she couldn't walk and had to have surgery on her legs. She had to be fed through a tube in her navel. Even through all the hardships, Bri has been so motivated and happy. Sometimes I wish I could be half as brave as she is. She goes to physical therapy every week and is starting to run. It's amazing because she is still the stubborn, video-game loving, Hannah Montana worshipping girl I have always loved. She's never changed; not for any one. She is determined to live her life each day as Briana.

Briana has always inspired me to be who I am no matter what is occurring in my life - good or bad. It is not my job to lie about who I really am and I hope that everyone realizes that. No one should have to go through the pain of not knowing who they truly are. It is torture. I know that when I go back and read this in a few years, I'll probably cry. Realizing this will always affect me. I'm sure it will change me for the better. Well, I hope so anyway.

Musings Of A Random Girl

My parents got divorced when I was three years old. My mother, brothers, and I moved cross country to California from Baltimore, Maryland. My earliest memory is of me in the backseat, looking out of the back window watching my family disappear in the distance as my mom drove off. I'm not entirely sure whether or not that memory is completely true. I've had reoccurring dreams about that moment, so I'm sure some moments of that memory are figments of my imagination. Cut to maybe 7 or 8 years later. Settled-in in California, nice apartment, not the best neighborhood, but good people around me. I call my father regularly, but all my mother can do is complain about him. No, it wasn't always like that. She would hide her disdain for him when I was a young, impressionable child. But now, she does not hold back: he doesn't pay child support, he's too lazy to fly out here to see you; he was never supportive, always at a bar when you were a baby. First of all, my father got injured and has been on disability for a while now. To make money he fixes up people's houses or plumbing issues with his brothers. He has a fear of flying and does not fly anywhere, he drives. If he's at the airport to pick me up on time when I come visit him then I don't care how he gets around as long as I see him. According to my mother, when we still lived with my father in Baltimore he was always at the bar playing pool and drinking beer. But the way she tells it, he seems like a raging alcoholic that cares jack squat about his family. Not true. Yes, he did frequent the bar, and he still does today, but he is a safe person. He doesn't have alcohol at the house and he mainly just plays pool with his buddies and a few drinks at the bar. He is a hard-working guy and he will be there if you need him. I know that I can depend on my father anytime, anywhere for whatever reason. Sometimes I feel like he's more dependable than my mother. Don't get me wrong, my mother is not a horrible, wicked woman as I may have portrayed her. Quite the opposite actually. I would consider her one of my best friends in a way. We're always shopping or at the movies together. Maybe that's why we have our little fights; we're always together. I think that's why I've begun to pull away from her. Based on the way I'm beginning to behave, I fear that I have a fear of commitment. I've never been good at making hard choices. A therapist would tell me it's because of the traumatic divorce between my parents. Ha! Maybe I just don't want someone to get that close to me. I find that weird because I love to feel loved and I love that feeling when someone understands me. I doubt that's my problem. Or maybe I'm the typical daddy's girl; searching for my daddy in every guy that I'll meet. I sure hope that doesn't happen. Maybe because I've realized it now, I can change my path.

Is it just me, or am I that random. You wanted to know what goes on in my head, and now you do. I don't apologize for it.