Chinese Food

I am at my Nana's house now debating whether or not I should be content with the fact that I am here. I am here until Monday night, as my mother and her boyfriend tour Canada. She doesn't trust me alone, and why should she? Of course I wouldn't have any parties, they never truely interested me. I would probably consume my time by walking long ways away, passively observing people and somehow ending up in the next town, visits to the library, and debating philisopical ideas before I drift og to sleep. So am I content with wasting away infront of a television while I could be exploring? I am not sure. But it is her decition.
After just putting asside my vegetarian ways for a day, I regret the fact that I did. I can feel the chinese food ooze out of my pores as I continously gag up the grease I just inhaled.
I need to get out. My usually optimistic self is feeling the weight of being in this small place. I need air. I need my bliss. For I will not feel sorry for myself though. I will not.

My throat is Dry

My throat it dry from dehydration, though I refuse to take a drink of water fearing to fuel the tears that wish to run down my hot face.
I want to say it doesn't matter, all of this, this thing we call life, that there is one after it, perhaps better than the one before. And my refusal to accect the inevitable that we are infact mortal.
Do we really cry for their lose of life, or our lose?
There are so many fingers I want to point at people. So many I want to put the blame on, but the fact that I can't is appalling. The fact that it is a natraul part of whatever this is, kills me a little each time I think about it. And it's not the fact that I am mortal that chains me to these tears, it's the fact that other's are not.
-Me-