marlboro medium shorts in a box,

please.

cancel that VW Passat. it was an on-line scam. we lost money. I want to kill people. my mother wants to help us get a vehicle; my sister informed me that she was only helping because she had to. Travis doesn't want any help at all. I want to be able to pay it back. 

kids tease my beautiful, driven niece for still having an imagination, for having make-believe. I want to kill them all, because I see pain in her eyes. I see her drawing into herself, unhappy with how she looks, with few friends.

I see myself in her. and I want to fix it all. 

Ben's been grumpy the last two days; I'm going to blame it on a lack of sleep/growth spurt. his growth has been unimaginable to Travis; I don't notice it that much. my son is long and lean, a piglet who smiles in his sleep and cries when he's awake. 

I'm scared to let anybody else touch him or take care of him. that includes Travis. I want to run away from myself. it's hard to stay occupied, but unless the house is perfect and I'm decent, I don't want anyone near me.