Why?

I would do anything to be back home right now. Everything here is too new, too different. I hate it here. I could do anything back in Ireland - there, I was home. There... There I belonged. Or at least I thought I did, until my parents sent me away. Like... Yeah, I know I was a problem - a big pain in the ass - but still. Nonetheless, I was their son - shouldn't I have been treated like it? Shouldn't they have loved me?

Yes, it may be my fault. Okay... A lot my fault. Okay, all of my fault. But I did it for them. Everything I did was for them, even if it brought pain to myself and/or others. Even though I do not think they cared about me as a son, I still do think they cared about me in some way. Mother was always... hovering - as one would hover over a child of a good friend's. And father was always trying to get me interested in cars, or in girls. Well, little did he know on how well he succeeded on the second one. If he know my latest antics, I don't think he would be proud of me. ...He's not really proud of me anyways, so why should that statement really matter?

I've always been a writer, in many ways. Usually when I write, it's not about me. But a friend told me that I needed help, and she had in turn bought me a diary. Alright, yes, she was more than a friend. Or so I thought - she kissed me first, but I never saw her away. Maybe she thought it would be the perfect time to say goodbye. Jamie leaving had killed me - I changed, in so many different ways.

I thought I loved her.

I thought she loved me.

But, it must have been an illusion or... something, because if she did love me she would not have left. Yeah, I may be a lot to handle - ...and the other side of me may be a lot, too - but I know how to stop myself, most of the time. I can stop myself although that will eventually lead to me snapping.

Although her leaving had killed me, I think that it was for the best. Because with the way I am, she might have ended up dead.