While my standardized testing is over, and I have decided to stick with homeschooling through high school, I am feeling lost. Astray from what I could be. I know what comes with staying home these next four years. It's not long, and yes I'm nervous. I'm scared. I don't want to screw up. 

 Those feelings of being lost and depressed are really getting to me. My siblings are screaming and yelling more and my parents are bickering more. When that happens my mom leans on me for support. I don't mind giving it, but when I'm this stressed I come off as a whiny brat when I can't explain myself maturely enough. My piano teacher is noticing that my quality of music on the keys is suffering. She knows that I've been working hard in school but she also knows the standardized tests are over, so I'm running out of excuses before I'm going to just have to face the truth.

 The whole point through this all is that I've had my first serious suicidal thought in a year. I'm so dissatisfied with how I'm living now. And it's not going to change for a long time which I know. Yeah, it's only four years you say. In one year my mom has her surgery, and on top of that she is showing signs of a pituitary gland tumor through her blood work which my dad has dismissed since they don't have the full lab results yet. If that really is the case then I will have missed my chance to escape this hell. There is no way I would really put another kink in the chain by killing myself just because I couldn't take it. Would I?

  Then it comes to, "Well how would I kill myself?" Easy. So easy. This is how I know I had never been serious those three times I did try. All I have to do is go into my mom's wine glass cabinet and reach for the hidden morphine bottle. It's that simple, and yet, I know I won't do it. I'll probably screw it up some how and end up with permanent brain damage knowing my luck.

 Not that my family doesn't matter, but I swear, the only thing keeping me going through this torture is Zach. I won't let him see me break. I can't. I have to hold up at least for him. Although, I'm not sure how far his care for me extends, I'd do a lot to make him happy and just as much to keep him from being in pain. Yet, I feel so trapped and even with the mental recording of his cheerful voice running through my head. I wish I knew what I was doing. I wish life came with some kind of rebate even if it isn't for me.