It's like a constant, throbbing nausea that you know would go away with sleep but it keeps you awake at night.

This is how I feel right now.

I stayed home from school yesterday. I'm staying home today, too.

My head hurts. So. Bad.

In reality, when does it NOT hurt?

I can't even function anymore. You wanna know how many times I threw up bile yesterday?

Five.

Five times I staggered to a toilet, vomited myself to near unconscious, staggered back to the couch, and collapsed while the sensitive fabric absorbed my cold sweat.

Except one of those five times was outside in the grass because my mom still had to come home and take me to my psychologist appointment, and she had to take me because I obviously couldn't drive myself. Oh, and the appointment is next week.

And another one of those five times was in my mom's car, in a huge water bottle she has in there. I had to hide it in a stray bag so my mom wouldn't get grossed out.

Yeah. This is something serious. Dad.

This is way more serious than skipping some fucking school to see my boyfriend.

Every time I have an emotional meltdown, I have a thoroughly incapacitating migraine the next morning.

And it lasts all day.

And all night.

And apparently, even into the next day.

Because that's where I am right now.

My head still hurts. And I'm still nauseous. And it's been a good twenty-four hours, if not more.

And it's REALLY a bitch because I'm so fucking depressed right now, I have emotional meltdowns about once a week.

I'm so tired.

But I can't sleep because of the intense pain jarring all senses.

Some people just have to face misery. Not that I'm saying I go through more misery than anyone else. God, I know that much.

But some people just have to go through shit just because it happens.

Maybe I do deserve it.

I don't really know what I did wrong to deserve it. I mean, I do stupid teenage stuff, but so do all stupid teenagers. I've never done anything really tremendously terrible.

Oh, yeah. So Dad. I hope you read this.

I hope you read this because I don't lie on here. I may lie to your face, but I won't lie to my own personal journal.

I have never. Ever. Skipped. School.

I think maybe I did once.

When I was eight.

And it was because it was my birthday. Or something of that nature.

I have never drank.

I have never even seen pot.

I've never smoked a cigarette.

Never injected any addictive toxin into my bloodstream.

I guess you do have me pinned on the sex thing. With my boyfriend who I've been dating for a year and a half almost. Gosh. Ya caught me.

I. Have. Never. Skipped. School.

When I stay home, it's because I'm like this. Throwing up five times a day. On average. One time it reached seven. And then there was another time when I was throwing up once about every twenty minutes, so my mom took me to the ER.

But you remember that.

That was when you sat there and antagonized me as I choked on my own stomach acid.

"Maybe you can take your finals in summer school since you obviously don't have enough credit to pass your sophomore year."

Yes. You said that.

You probably won't remember saying it, but I remember hearing it.

I've come to discover that despite the fact that you are a good man and you love me, something about verbal abuse gets you off.

Well, Dad.

I hope you don't take out your anger on Shelley, now that I'm gone. Because she can leave you too. But she won't feel the need to come back like I do.

The truth? I really miss you guys.

I really, really do.

But I can't live with you.

Apparently I can't even visit because the last time I spent with you, you just stressed me out into tears after you left.

"No, this medical absence might come in handy if you have to go to summer school."

I hate that part of you, Dad. The part that has to say mean things to people.

Oh. And yesterday wasn't a Tuesday. By the way.

AND BRIAN DIDN'T COME OVER.

He doesn't even have enough money to come over that often. If you recall, he's paying his way through college without any help from his parents.

If my depression is this bad, I don't even want to know how you feel all the time. At least I don't feel compelled to talk to my own flesh and blood family members like they don't matter. At least I'm nice to people.

I've thought of suicide, but I don't think I could ever actually do it. I have too many people that care about me. Plus Razia's Shadow. I have to see it through.

But those are the only two things stopping me from losing it.

This is no cry for sympathy from some washed-out emo.

This is the truth.

And I can only pray to whatever deity is up there that you see that.