At the moment I am sitting alone in Pyramid Room 8029 of the Luxor hotel in Vegas, watching an ancient episode of “Malcolm in the Middle,” and I finally have some time alone. I have barely been here for 24 hours, and yet I wanted to leave as soon as I woke up this morning.
Being underaged, my brother, cousin and myself don’t have a whole lot to do in Vegas. We have found ourselves at an impasse several times today.
Fourteen more hours before I have to leave. I thank God that at least half of that time will be spent sleeping.
I never particularly enjoyed spending long periods of time with my family. They are OK in very miniscule doses, such as having dinner or watching a movie together.
Mother is buying another new car.
She just convinced me the other day not to have a big 21st birthday bash because it would be too expensive.
I am angry enough that I want to cry.
I mentioned in a previous blog that I haven’t felt quite like myself lately. I’ve been rather melodramatic, reclusive and indecisive.
I can’t simply just explain this all away, something I normally have an enormous talent for.
One theory I’ve considered is that I may prefer to stay home alone because I finally have a place to call home, and a room of my home. I used to hate living with Oz because I never felt like I had enough time to myself.
I just got off the phone with David. He helped me get my mind off of troublesome things. I love him. He bought me a very squishy Totoro, which I brought to Vegas with me.
Brother and cousin are back.