gayballs

I'm going to church today.
my stepfather's going under the knife this thursday (brain tumor-removal surgery) and my mother's decided he needs as much prayer as he can get. so she's invited me and my siblings, though I'm sure I'll be the only one that makes it.

My friend Maria said this and it made me want to punch her in the face:
"It's good that you're going. you need prayer too."

It just rubbed me the wrong way. She may be right-- I'm all fucked up and my life is made up of confusion-- but yeah. It just sounded... sanctimonious or something.

I need a lot of things, prayer among them.

Yesterday was a day of crying and hiding and yelling and apologizing and I'm... pretty much where I was.
Which can be okay, I guess.

I wish I were more stupid so that I wouldn't find achieving happiness so fucking difficult.

Last night I watched an episode of the new This American Life tv show and half of it was about this rancher who takes all the joy in the world in having this amazing, beautiful, huge bull.
Feeding him, patting him, watching him eat the grass... it's what made him happy.
While my friends were laughing at the guy, talking about how weird he seemed, I secretly wished I was him.

But that's not me.