"All good things... oh I wish you well."

So. I'm not really sure what all to say here... I just know that it's 11:55, and I need to say something.

I've been feeling weird all day. Sort of one of those disconnected days. Anyway, I just got back from the John and Daniel's birthday dance, and that was fun. Certain persons are fun to talk to, certain persons aren't, and other certain people are still ignoring me for who knows why. So I'm consoling myself with Gilbert O'Sulivan and a plate of blueberry waffles. Well, Vons' blueberry waffles. Cheap but good. And especially tasty when you know it's really too late to be eating anything. I'm not tired though... my body is, but I'm not. I just have a headache.

I've also been stressed with school. I get down on myself for not doing as much or as well as I should be. Even mom is getting down on me now. Most of the time I can handle pressure... it just seems to be building up lately.

I guess the real reason I'm upset is, my adopted uncle David is coming to visit us tomorrow. He comes once in a while to collect his mail. He's the one that set us up with Luke and his family, and... well, we all know how that turned out. At least, I do. The visit isn't the upsetting part - it's the part about bringing Luke along that makes me nervous.

Since May or whenever they took Luke away from us, there's not a day that goes by when I don't think about him. Everything reminds me of him. I mean, he slept in my room for months; he played piano with me; he was my baby. For weeks after they took him - months, even - I was filled with this sort of hatred from the situation. I was angry at his family, angry at David, and angry at my own family for not doing anything about it. Even after I cooled down slightly, it still broke my heart to think about him. I remember waking up some nights because I had dreamt about him screaming and crying. It was torturing me.

After a while I got used to the situation. If I thought long enough about it I would get angry... really angry. But for the most part, I had come to a sort of understanding that that's the way it was.

Did you know it was my fault they took him in the first place? Me, the one who watched him all day and loved him more than anybody. It was a Thursday and his parents were coming to take him for the weekend, the next day. I was walking down the hall and looking up, and he got in the way and I didn't see. He fell down and bumped his lip - that was it. No bruise, no blood, just a little bump. The next morning I left for Groups, and I can't even remember if I said goodbye to him. That was the last time I saw him. They never brought him back.

But now, the idea that Luke will be back in this house - that he'll be with me - that he might not even remember me - is scaring me. It's bringing back all the feelings of anger and guilt and hate, and I don't like feeling like this at all. Mom says I can't blame myself - she says they were looking for an excuse to take him, and if it wasn't me, it would be something else. She says it's a good thing it wasn't 'something more serious'. But how am I supposed to take that? Even if they would have taken him away later for something else - they didn't. They took him then, because of me. So of course I blame myself. I don't think that feeling will ever go away.

I want to be able to pick him up and hug him and see his funny little smile. But what if he cries? What if he doesn't remember me, or us, or anything? It'd just break my heart all over again. Or even if he does remember. He still has to go back 'home', and then he'll be taken away all over again. I don't know if I can take it.