"I love my family, I love my family, I love my family..." somehow if I don't keep thinking this over and over again I wonder if I will go off the deep end. At 23, you'd think that by now I'd know how to tell my parents to go to hell. Lots of my friends have told me to do that; just tell my parents where they can go and leave.

But it's not that easy. I don't have a cent to my name, I'm disabled, and frankly I'm the type of person who just doesn't do that. I know I love my family. I do. I'm just over tired and lonely and god knows what else. I'm worried about my job and worried about my sisters...

I guess I don't really talk about my sisters on here because if I don't look at it I can almost forget it's happening. I really should talk about it though. I talk about everything else that's in my face, so why not this? Maybe I should start at the beginning.

My mom and my sister have always had a volatile relationship. Every morning when my sister was in Junior High they would get in a fight. My sister would swear that the pony tail she had put in had a bump in it (trust me when I say there never was), and when no one would agree with her would rip (and that's in italics because she didn't just rip it out she ripped it out) the hair thing out of her hair and attempt to do it all over again. This would go on for five or six hair do's till my sister finally left with her pony-tail looking exactly like it did the first time. Trust me when I say this is not a way to wake up every morning.

Then there was high school. My mom and my sister (N.) would constantly fight. It almost seemed like the fight never ended, it was just put on pause while N. was at school or asleep. Almost every time N. would want to go out there was a fight. My only reprieve from this was school, because my bed room and her's are connected by a wall. Then there was the day the noise stopped, and all there was was crying.

N. was supposed to work for my parents, who at that time ran their own catering business. About 7pm or so that night I got a phone call that my sister was coming home, she had freaked out in the bathroom. When she came home, she had what I call the look on her face. I can't describe it, and I don't' know if I want to. It's just an awful combination of sadness and utter hatred for everyone around her. That night when I went to bed I didn't hear N. and my mom fighting. All I heard was N. on the phone telling the person on the other end to "take me away...please please take me away...".

At school the next day I tried to ignore the stomach ache from worry and sadness that was plaguing me. When I got home and my sister wasn't there, I asked my mom where she was she said the phrase that I have come to hate. "Honey N.'s gone" she said.

Gone? What do you mean gone. My voice became shrill. "She went to her boy friends house and she says she doesn't want to come home" My mom said. My dad and my uncle went to go get her. They brought her home, the same look plastered on her face.

As it turned out my sister had tried every drug there is out there. The only thing she hadn't done, and maybe it saved her life I don't know, was needles. N. had always been afraid of needles, whether someone else putting them in her or putting them in herself. I would later find out that her "drug of choice" is cocaine.

N. would end up spending about a week (I'm not exactly sure how long she stayed, it's not a detail I hold on to. Frankly I'd like to forget the whole thing. Wouldn't you?) in the hospitals psychiatric ward. I remember when I went to see her and gave her a present, like she was in to get her tonsils out, I don't know. Maybe back then I was just plain gullible to actually believe that she would get better and stay off the stuff. There are still times when I'm just as gullible. Sigh...I wish I didn't have to be.

For a few years at least, things seemed to be better. N. graduated from high school and was working for my parents. I was so thankful. Maybe that's why I didn't notice when it started happening again. It's almost like N. crying in the bed room was somehow better, like at least then I was able to protect myself. So when I was supposed to go away to Europe with American Music Abroad (look it up if you never heard of it) the summer I was 16 I didn't think I had anything to worry about at home. Still, there were clues.

The night before I was set to go and practice with the group (like I said, if you've never heard of it, search for it!) I got in a fight with my dad. Like she has many times before my mom got in the middle of it. I wouldn't have noticed anything different had my mother not said something like "why are you yelling at her??? she's the only one who seems to care about us around here". And when we were supposed to give our farewell concert (look it up!) and my sister had that same look on my face, I should have put two and two together. It's just that look feels and looks kinda different when N. smiles. Even if the smile is fake.

I didn't think much about it until we got to our fifth country (grrr....for the last time, I said look it up!), and a horrible feeling creeped over me. Right in the middle of a concert I looked up at the sky and knew, something was wrong at home. The friends I had made on the trip kept telling me not to worry about it, that everything was fine, but I told them that they would see, something was wrong. It's not that I wanted something to be wrong, I just knew it was.

My parents tried to put on happy faces when they picked me up, yet I could feel the vibe. On the way home I kept expecting them to turn down the radio and say "we've got to talk" or something. I kept probing them for answers, but they kept insisting that everything was fine. That was until I got home and showed them their anniversary present (I was away on their anniversary). "You're the only one who got us anything" my mom said with tears in her eyes. "What about S.?" I asked, the nervous feeling settling deep in my stomach. "Nope." My mom said. "Well what about N.?" My mom's face turned a gray and I'm sure so did mine, and she said "honey N.'s gone" "What? "Why!" I said, tears streaming down my face. "We found out your sister is doing drugs" my mom said. "And I told her she had to choose between the drugs and her family, that I would help her get better, but she had to throw away the drugs. She choose the drugs." I shouldn't have been mad at my mom, but I was "But she could die out there!" I screamed. I was so angry at her. I would later learn what an awful decision that was for my mom, and I later understood why she did it. But at that point I was pissed. N. ended up getting help from my grandmother on my mom's side, something that made my mom extremely angry, as she felt very much left all by her self with the decision. Like I said, I later understood that anger.

I'm not going to go over every time this has happened, but I will talk about the most recent. About a month ago my sister swallowed a whole bunch of pills. She had been taking drugs again, and claimed that she really did want to die. I'm not sure I believe her. She again stayed in a mental institution, but since leaving has refused to get counseling. Councilors have told her she should to AA meetings, but she won't go, and insists she is not an alcoholic. I used to agree with her. Now I'm not so sure.

For about a week things seemed to be on their first step to be getting better. N. had found a job, and claimed that she liked it. Today I found out she quit that job. She claims the people there were too happy. And this is where I get angry. Every job she has ever had she has left, claiming it was someone else's fault. The people were too happy, too sad, too mean, whatever...she always leaves. The only thing she seems to love to hold on to are boy friends that aren't good for her. I know I told you about that, so I won't go into it.

While N. was working at her new job I told my dad that I wanted to do Thanksgiving. When he told me he wanted to skip it, that he felt there was nothing to be thankful for. I love the holidays and begged my mom to do it anyway. Now, even though I love the holidays just as much, I can't say I don't agree with him.

I was going to talk about the rest of my family, but I had to fill in all this information first. So now you know one of the reasons I'm always depressed, especially lately. Hope I didn't depress you to much in the process of getting my feelings out, though talking about them always seems to help a little bit. Thanks again for listening, even if the only thing that is listening is the computer. I'll talk to everyone soon. Till then, Blessed be.