Well I don't normally blog early in the morning but I have a ridiculous amount of homework to do, just one assignment is a ten page essay, and I want to blog today. I have to blog today I guess. I don't know where to start on this. I don't mind talking about problems, but not this one so much. It just feels awkward to me. I usually try to make jokes about every problem, but it doesn't work so well on this one. It's not something that you're really supposed to joke about no matter how much time goes by. I think I'll just be vague and then not feel so awkward writing about it.

Well today is two years. Almost exactly two years for me, because I got pulled out of my second period when I found out. I don't know what else I'm supposed to say about it. I know I'm supposed to feel worse about it for a day, and maybe pay attention to it more. But I feel the same about it as I did a week ago and as for paying attention to it more, I'm going to be doing homework all day. No cemetery visit, no deep talk with anyone, not even a little mention to anyone. It seems like I'm trying to avoid my emotions, but I'm not. I just don't feel a lot towards anything at all. Whenever people tell me that I'm not dealing with things right or that I'm keeping things inside, I'm really not. I just don't care. I mean, I do. But not to the extent that I know I'm supposed to. Now it seems like I'm heartless or something. I do feel bad, a lot actually. I just don't let it keep me up at night or from hanging out with people or from going to school. I actually went to school the next day. There's a fine line between strength and heartlessness, and I'm not really sure if I've crossed it. Anyway, my dad is going to the cemetery. I don't think that he should be allowed to though. Him getting married to that woman belittles everything he had with my mom and the two of them going together changes it from a sacred thing into a mockery. When I look outside my room I see a giant hole in the wall, the size of my foot. When I look around my room I see a bunch of broken guitar strings from strumming way too hard, a bunch of dishes from living in my room, and a bunch of awards that all stopped coming in around sophomore year. I don't know whether or not to blame my mom, my dad, or even myself for all of them. But I do know that it doesn't matter. Either way I'm still sitting here writing about this, and no matter how many anniversaries go by it's going to be and feel the same. Maybe before the show tomorrow I'll drive to the cemetery by myself. I know this isn't very long, especially considering the subject and I'm sure I could write a few pages. But like I said before, it's awkward to talk about. So I think I'm going to end this here. I'll feel a lot better when my homework is done anyway. Just please don't think that I don't care about this or anything else that happens in my or my friends lives. I do. I just have a hard time feeling a lot.
Have a good day.