I keep thinking I should write here. I'm at Parkridge and I have the internet this time. I keep wanting to describe this place, the horrible food, the ugly room, the people who live here and the staff who work here... I just can't quite bring myself to do it. I've talked to a few people about immediate things that go on, but I don't really have a desire to describe it. Maybe because I've done it before. I lived here for 6 months and updated my diary almost ever day. I think I'd honestly have to re-read it all to describe that time in my life because I find it hard to remember it very clearly sometimes. It feels like I've been here for weeks and I just have to not pay attention because if I do I'll fall apart and I'd really rather not do that. Of course, right now, it's not just here that's a problem in my life. The death of my grandfather (which I don't think I'm really feeling, like I don't feel alot of things) and the death of hope or at least previous hope I had for the enzyme. I haven't even told my parents about some the things I've found out through some scientific articles (apparently the enzyme works very well on cardiac muscle but not so much on skeletal, all about the delivery system and veins not being porous enough). How do I break the news to my Mom and Dad that this thing we've been hoping for forever isn't the thing we wanted and maybe if we wait some more (who knows how long, nobody that's who) maybe it will work better, or maybe it won't. A friend of mine said I should plan for what would happen if the enzyme didn't work and I still have no fucking clue how to do that. Except be afraid. So it's not just Parkridge, but it is Parkridge, because, as my sister said, this place sucks the soul out of you. There is a guy who has lived here for almost 20 years now and I have no fucking clue how he isn't insane. Or maybe he is and he just doesn't show it. It's really fucking hard to be a person, a confident, independent person when most people treat you like a child and you feel like you have no control. So I just sit and try not to think about it. Sometimes I wonder where other people get the strength to be those disabled heroes you always hear about. The ones that follow the treatment to the letter and get 4.0 GPAs and "overcome all the odds" and be great and happy and all those things. I think there might be something wrong with me that I can't seem to do these things. Maybe I'm just weak and pathetic. Don't forget lonely and sad. Weeeeeeeeeeeee. Is it any wonder it doesn't feel remotely like Christmas?

So, I'll just try not think about it.

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