Unfairness knows no bounds, it appears. It’s been a nightmare week, if I’m to be completely honest. I think there was a brief period there where I forgot what it was like to have the foundations of my life be shaken relentlessly, until the world feels like it has no right side up. Moods I can handle. I can take the thoughts. Bring them. It’s the rest, the things that are out of my control yet not out of my control.

I go on autopilot so much that it doesn’t feel alien to me anymore. Even doing things that are enjoyable has this sensation of being automatic. Everything has lost its magic. It’s not new, it’s not fresh and exciting. It’s what it was yesterday. It’s what it was last week. It’s what it was a month ago.

It starts off with my quad needing to get repaired. Even the tires are being replaced. So lately I’ve been borrowing my father’s quad to go out with, if only to get myself out of the suffocation of the house. The other day I was going up a steep hill and went over a bush to discover that it had a huge boulder concealed beneath it. I centered up on it quite violently even though I was going pretty slow. I get to the top of the slope and stop to check out what damage I’ve done. At first glance it doesn’t seem like I’ve done anything too terrible besides scratch it up a bit, so I shrug it off but decide to cut the trip short just in case. I’m dreading getting home, because I know my dad will give me one of those looks and probably won’t talk to me without a grimace for several days—if he talks to me at all.

Naturally he makes a big to do about it. I go inside and decide that he can throw his tantrum by himself. He made it out like I’d done something horrible, but I know there’s a good chance he was just exaggerating. He tends to do that so that he can have an excuse to be angry with me and give a long speech about how nothing ever goes right for him because everyone else is always fucking it up. It’s not until a day later that I realize something is missing.

I’m hurrying to get dressed for work. I barely slept at all, having stayed up all night staring at the television screen in one of my typical bouts of numbness. Then I go to get the cellphone and can’t find it. I search everywhere, throwing things off of my messy desk in a huff. I don’t find it. I’m running late. I leave without it, using my dad’s instead.

I get home and he is in a mood. Hostile as fuck, and not someone I want to be near. I search through my room, search everywhere, and can’t find it. I begin to think that I lost it on a trail. It could have easily fallen out of my pocket. I spent the next few hours looking for it. It was hot and I was tired, but I looked. I managed to find the trail where I’d hit the rock, but it wasn’t there. I even walked down the entire hill, checking.

I get into this mode, the autopilot one. I misplace things perpetually. I forget what I’m supposed to be doing, or why. It drives me insane at times that I can’t keep up with the demand. I feel like I’m so barely alive.

Other things went wrong that I don’t even want to think about. The cellphone had to be shut off. That same day as I’m using my computer in the living room, it suddenly shuts off. I plug it into the power cord and leave it for several hours. When I come back it hasn’t charged. The battery gave out. Fortunately when I ordered it, one of the things I did not skip on was an extra one, so I used that. Just as an example of how stupid it can get, as I was taking the back panel off to replace it, the flashlight I went to use to better see where it was attached, flickered and died. I feel like everything I touch is doomed.

My cat is sick. He keeps shitting everywhere. He’s done it on the floor, in my chair, on my bed. This morning I went to go to sleep and as I start pulling the covers over me I let out a groan. It was the second time in a week that he’s decided to leave me a nice present. I was so tired I just removed the offensive material, balled up the blankets, then left them in the hall and snatched up a few clean ones from the cupboard. I only slept a few hours on the bare mattress, then threw myself a nice private tantrum.

And here I am now. I know I’m being a baby about it, but what does it matter? I haven’t said anything to anyone, just went on my merry fucking way as I always do. It seems like there is no point to say anything. My mother gave me an earful this morning, going on and on about how bad dad was yesterday and how he was saying all his bullshit about me.

The one thing that pisses me off the most about all of this, is that if it was just me on my own it would have been fine. I would have bought a new phone and not worried about it. I would have looked at the quad, my computer battery, and shrugged. But you can’t do that in my house. I can’t say how many times my dad has done something stupid with his phone. He’s left it on top of his car, lost it, dropped it in the lake…. And of course it is no big deal. I do it once and the world stops spinning to punish me for my simple little mistake. Gee, dad, so fucking sorry.

Over, done with, gone, I suppose.