Mess.

Here we are, every single day. Making a mess and then cleaning it up. Making another mess, cleaning it up. Cleaning up our own mess, cleaning up someone else's mess. Thank you, sorry, I won't do it again. But again and again, it goes in a cycle. Doing things that have consequences that we never intended, but that happen anyway, because we didn't think when we should have. Mess, clean it up. Mess, clean it up. Again. Again, again. Over and over. The story of my life.

I wonder if people would blame me for things. But do you realise, I don't have enough capacity to worry about so many things anymore. I'm sorry, but I'm busy helping out at home, you see. I'm sorry I haven't time or intention to think in your shoes, because I'm thinking in too many peoples' shoes, but never very much in my own shoes at all. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

I don't mean to be like this, really. But I can't help it. At least, I have such a natural tendency to be this way. I can't think of my own life in a detached manner. I don't know what my priorities are anymore because my priorities are a combination of the priorities of every person under this roof.

Sometimes I get so tired, like now, that I just lie in bed unmoving. Reading, writing, letting time pass. I am falling sick again. I'm wrapped in a blanket. Shaelyn fell sick again, second time in 2 weeks, but at least the fever is not so high like before. She passed the bug to me, I'm sure of it. But I never break out in sickness, almost never, at least. I just feel so unwell all over, so tired, aching. I know if I hadn't such a strange immune system, I would have been running a fever.

Mom worries that I carry her illness. I think... Maybe I do? I need some shut-eye.

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