It's been ages since I've been on here last and a lot has happened since. I've gone through short bursts of "happiness" and seen little to nothing of my depression. It's been like it went out the door and didn't come back, then came for a visit and left again. During those times, I've tried to piece my life together. I applied for school 3 places, but sadly didn't get in. I was told my entry course had "expired", meaning I'd have to go through 20 weeks even though I have the full 40 week course and more, but nevermind that, I'll make do elsewhere. I've tried to exercise, still am trying. I do a lot of garden work, so that must count for something. I try not to over-eat or pity-eat, but not much success there. I have gained a fair bit of weight, but as mentioned, I'm working on it.

Overall, I've tried to turn things around but in the face of the trying times me and my family are going through, I'm pretty proud of myself. But I feel like it's not enough. I most certainly don't want to be fat, though I don't think I'm the only one who feels better after a bit of chocolate.

My grandmother is on deaths door. The cancer has spread to her entire body and I believe it's spread to her brain. She's in pain, she sleeps all day, barely eats and the worst part is; she's afraid. She doesn't want to die. And it hurts me like a thousand daggers. Seeing my mom distraught, knowing my beloved grandmother will leave us. It hurts. I lost my grandfather and his wife to this damned curse and now my grandmother? As if that wasn't enough. My grams (2nd grandmother, dad's side) has now also been diagnosed with leukemia. Great.

I find it hard to believe that a family can be hit with this much bad luck. It's beyond me. It baffles me. It makes me question whether there is a God, and if so, why isn't he hearing my prayers? I know I haven't been the best Christian, but I've sacrificed more than most people. I'm staying strong for my mom and dad. I do not cry when they do and I try to keep a house running, knowing they can't. I've sold items I held dear in times where we couldn't even buy milk and bread. And yet, bad luck just keeps chasing our heels.

It's tiresome, it's exhausting, it's making me ill. And I don't have time for it.

Sometimes I feel like the weight of it will crush me and then it'll be my fault that my family falls apart.

How do I cope with this without breaking? I don't have anyone at all. I got no friends, because I don't have time for them. And I don't want to talk about it with anyone, but I know I have to.