I'm scared. My mom left for Las Vegas on Thursday morning, and she hasn't called us for any confirmation that she made it there safely. I just have a really bad feeling... she ALWAYS calls the very minute she gets there. God. I realised it just a few minutes ago and started panicking.. so I started dialing all these phone numbers on her desk that had the area code of 702, but sadly, out long distance connection is disconnected. Which reminds me... I should have mentioned that my mom filed for bankruptcy just this week. She told me before she left.

I'm shaking all over... I don't know what I should do. I'm really scared. Not because of the bankruptcy thing, but because of the safety of my mom. I don't know what's happening with her right now, and I can't contact her. And what makes it worse... she and I got in a fight the night before she left, and I actually wished for her to die. I forgot why I wished it, it was just a spiteful thing I wispered to myself when her back was turned on the height of us yelling at each other. I am a FUCKING horrible monster and I pray for death. How the hell can I do that? And now I'm fucking worried with so much insecurities about how my mom is doing.... and I want to cut myself because I'm back here, in Santa Cruz, where I'm going to be spending the weekend with my friends--getting ready for Lorraine's sweet sixteen, for our performance, plus on Sunday we're getting together at the mall and afterwards, at the restaurant to celebrate Christina's birthday. On Monday, we plan on going to San Jose to take studio pictures. Making those plans today after dance class made my conscious split from all different kinds of directions... because first of all, my mom MIGHT not have made it safely to wherever my step dad was. And I'm HERE, fucking having fun with my friends?!?!? What the fuck is wrong with me? And what's worse is, my friends--Lorraine, Stephanie, Christina, Ashley or ANYONE ELSE don't know shit about what's going on around my life. I don't bother telling them.

I can tell right now, from my current emotion that I will be crying myself to sleep tonight. Worrying... wondering... feeling guilty. I remember when I was younger--making a promise that if I had a choice to either save my mother's life and give up my own, or let her die and have myself live. I would have chosen to die for her. And I still would... I have been selfish enough my entire life that I owe her that. But now, she's in Las Vegas where I can't help her and I feel so useless. Can you believe I'mc rying right now? The tears are trickling down my rosy cheeks as I reach for the kleenex to blow my nose. My eyes are red, and my head is throbbing almost louder than the THUMP THUMP THUMP of my deeply wounded heart. I lost my grandfather.. my dad... my step dad... almost lost my grandmother.. friends... all from the thing called "death". I can't bear lose my mom. No, not right now. I can't... I won't. I refuse to lose her. But what can I do? Pray? Pray to the God that took my loved ones with pure hearts and consciousness... took the people that I loved the most, the ones that don't deserve to die? My grandfather grew up under the roof of a poor farmer in the Philippines. HIS father wouldn't allow him to go to school, because he wanted him to grow up as a farmer and take care of their land. Do you know what my grandfather did? He worked with his bare hands to carry blocks of wood miles to the store to sell them as firewood. He WORKED himself to school. He WORKED himself for a good education. He had his own law firm in the Philippines---working for poor people, trying to live by whatever he had. Sometimes, people were so poor in the Philippines that they would pay my grandfather with FOOD for his services since they had no money. He was such a good person, that he would sometimes use his OWN money to work for people that needed a lawyer but had so little.

My mom WORKED her way to California. She worked so God-damned hard, and I just stood there, take advantage of it all. I had it so good... while she was working her ass off. I feel so selfish. I hate myself. I remember when I was younger, being new to America, I would remember my grandfather and how little time I had with him in this world. I would start being secretly depressed and I would lock myself in my room--pretending to be asleep. What I would do was... I would grab the kitchen knife and start cutting small cuts onto my upper legs. Since I was a little tom-boy then and would always wair pants, they were never visible. I loved giving myself scars. I was only what... 7 years old then, too. I remember when I was about 11.. I almost gave myself a scar on my face that would start from the upper left of my eye to the bottom right of my cheek. Kind of like the one that Squall had, but much bigger. I didn't go through with it... because it would be way too visible, and I was afraid of what my mom would do to me or say. Everytime my mom and I would fight, I would keep the SAME kitchen knife we've had for years under my bed just in case the emotional pain I was feeling would be too much, and I decide to make it so that I was having physical pain instead of having to endure my emotional weakness.

Fuck. If I don't get in contact with my mom, I fucking swair I'm gonna go crazy. I can't stand this fucking anticipation. I will seriously kill myself if she isn't okay. Ugh. I'm going to lie down now on my mom's bed and cry until the sound of my weeping lullabyes me to sleep. I hope I die in my sleep... it would be easier that way.