How to say it?

I do not really know what that feeling is.

That feeling I get when I choose to stay at my brother's house instead of go with my nephew and mother to my sister's. The feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me afraid and sad; thinking that if they came back through the door then I would somehow find a way to show them I really love them. Make them feel it. And know it.

I know they do know I love them. But inside I want to fix everthing and be able to attatch myself to them forever; and them to joy, which is so hard to come by in this life.

This is the first time my family has all been together in the same room for about three years. Just recently I was tryng to scrap together a book of photographs from our childhood. Those are the only pictures that really exist in depth. My mom eventually just got too tired I think.
We sat and talked, and fought and ignored and watched television.
If I smoked I would have had an excuse to leave; and an expensive way to cope...


I wish they would come back through that door. I wish our conversations and glances were full of depth.

If they read this, this wouldn't even make any sense to them.

....day one almost finished.