I just needed to vent.

My silent tears sting the back of my throat. They cloud my vision, blurring reality, but not one makes the quiet journey to my cheek. Red-eyed, I stare at the mirror, not seeing it, contemplating what I've done, said, who I've hurt. In four hours, I have screwed up in so many ways, but I've learned so much. I have felt, really felt, close to someone; I have said things that I've been wanting to say for a long time. I have laughed through the pain, sorrow, and disappointing teen antics, and I have come out mostly in tact. And now the one person that I've hurt the most tonight is downstairs, making me a pizza that I don't deserve.

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I'm thirteen years old and I don't understand anything. I don't know how to love, how to deal with things, or how to explain something without making someone feel stupid, or angry, or hurt, even if that person is me. People underestimate a young person's emotions so much and so often. Today, I said I was a child, jokingly, to get into a movie. I didn't realize how true it was, until now. And I know that things could be worse, that I could have gotten in a lot more trouble, but right now, in this moment, there is nothing worse than knowing that your father is so disappointed, or hurt, that he can't even punish me. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he isn't disappointed, or hurt. But I am. With myself.

I knew I should have told him so much more, every detail, asking his permission, telling him where I was going, what was happening. It's not like I did anything bad, or wrong, or illegal- but I might as well have. I lost my parent's trust, and he just said, this is how we learn. He didn't lecture me, or punish me, or explain to me what I did. He didn't take away any privileges, or possessions, or plans. Maybe he saw the grief in my eyes, or heard the tears in my throat, or knew that I had learned my lesson. And right now I love him more than anyone in the world. And my sister is mad at him, when it should be vice versa.

And the second person I love the most right now- is Mark. He understood when I told him about my vacation woes, he took responsibility for this whole fiasco, he listened when I explained my sister's comlpexity, and agreed with everything I said, and actually made me feel, if possible, better. I felt like I had someone I could rely on, someone I could tell anything to, someone I could laugh with, or cry with, or scream with, and would take it all in and still love me for who I am. Sure, he has a million faults, but he has a million and one ways to make me smile. And guess how many of those are faults?


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Did any of that make sense?