I Am Beginning To Be Able To Articulate What I'm Feeling About "The Change"

Ever since last week, I've been dreading waking up. I usually dread waking up, but at least there were days where I had nothing to do so I could wake up any damn time I wanted to, and if I wanted to try and loll myself back to sleep, I could do that.

No matter. Not right now, and a good possibility not ever again.

This is the time where The Secret I Have To Keep Secret haunts me the most. I'm wakening from what usually is a peaceful slumber only to be hit with the realization of The Secret. And its effects, as well as what I have to do now, is intense and inescapable.

I remember, at that point of waking up, whether I have time to help Father. Whether I want to help Father or blow him off. And, most importantly of all, how I'm helping bring the store's destruction. I don't want to do that, and yet I can't just abandon My Father, who not only could throw me out of the house, but needs help. And that is where I hurt the most. I am so conflicted.

There's another irony here. When I decide to work at the store, I get a little hyped up. I need to because it's hard work. Manual labor sucks. Father always harped on that, and my parents never wanted -- well, at least I don't think wanted -- to ever follow in their footsteps. I think Mother virtually forbade us to do what they did. And yeah, it is too hard work. But you know what? I feel kind of good when it's all done. The endorphins are coursing through my body. It's exercise, sucky exercise, and yet my body needs it. That's why I kind of feel good -- even though those very actions precipitate the very result I dread every morning.

But what can I do? I can't stop this. I just have to ... help it along. Slouching towards Gomorrah.

And I get to face this tomorrow morning. And the next morning. And every morning after that, probably for the rest of my life, which is changing with every letter I type and every breath I take.

I am so, so sad.