Peachy Insomnia

Please, disregard the previous post.
Forget the previous post.
Ignore the previous post.
Please, shove the previous post into the drawer of your mind that typically houses particularly embarrassing memories.

(You're probably assuming my intentions to be completely different then in reality, however it'd be the best if I don't even attempt to clarify why I'm asking you to disregard it. Also, although I could always just delete it, I have this odd mental obligation not to delete posts on here. Not 100% sure why~)

I've said sometimes, maybe even frequently, that I'm tired.
That's a half-lie.



It's true, in the regard that I have hardly gone to bed before 12 for roughly a week now, and waking up early while staring at LCD screens all day, is not particularly beneficial to my energy level.
The reason, however, for it's falsehood, is that I'm not truly tired in the regard that I assume myself to be.

Welp. Why am I writing so pretentiously tonight? Who knows. Anyway, back to the topic:

I think I'm tired of everything going on. Of false friends and social pressure and the twisted mind of a man whose mental ties are fraying. But I'm not, really. I'm not truly tired, nor am I smart, nor is the world dumb, or dull.

I'm really just another girl out of billions, trying my hardest to make sense out of this world, when really, there is none. I'm not religious, so I can't just chalk stuff down as "God's plan", and then sleep soundly at night. I'm not smart enough to understand the inner workings of the universe, so no assurance there. I'm just a bumbling teenage girl with a laptop and a penchant for writing far, far too much. And maybe this is my form of therapy?

Writing, as I've said before and will doubtlessly say again, is (apparently) quite cathartic. My mother briefly broached the subject of therapy for my sister today, and asked if I might be interested as well. . .?
It'll sound like the biggest lie in the world, but I'm actually pretty emotionally removed from the situation, in comparison, that is, to a normal, textbook divorce.

It's not really scarring me for life. It's not sudden, I'm not torn between which parent I want to live with, I'm not overly depressed because "my family is falling apart!!".
Seriously. I'm so peachy-keen, I'm pure peach essence. That's how perfectly fine I am.

In fact, the only thing that really spurs my emotions in this situation, is my father's actions. I keep thinking he can't possibly be more idiotic, but then again, I keep forgetting that he's a delusional, paranoid alcoholic, with blood pressure problems and taking Zoloft.
Yeah, that basically sums up my father.

He's asking for custody of my sister and I.

I'll refrain from commenting on the matter further, because it's already almost 1 AM, and the screens kind of starting to blur. Stupid white page layout. . .

Anyway; my last post is stupid, don't read it.
(No, that is not a tear-jerkingly perfect display of reverse psychology. Or at least, it's not intended to be. Bluh, whatever.)
Also, I'm a pointless little girl whose probably not worth your time, my father is an idiot, and I am going to sleep, because my obligatory "Oh look what my father did!" post has been made.

To make up for it somewhat, here play the Impossible Quiz;