This is me

Once again these current blogs are pieces taken from an old journal from one or two years ago. This blog is the second part. This is what made me me. This is my trial.

Part 2

That very thought ripped at my chest. I was horribly confused. And I didn't really have any one to turn to. My dad was locked away in his own problems, my brother and I always fought at the time, and my friends would try to be sympathetic but they couldn't understand. They would say things like that sucks or its not fair and not a single word helped. But it wasn't too bad. I could still handle others things. I kept up with my school as much as possible and I was congratulated by teachers on test scores. I was the top in the reading comprehension of the Iowa Test of Basic Skills. And then it was seventh grade. Those thoughts still circling my head. I joined football and found a decent way to channel my anger. But then another curve ball was thrown straight and true. It was a Friday. My first football game was that next week. When I got home my dad was packing. I knew that something was wrong. He told me and kyle to sit down. Then he told us that our aunt had died of Huntington's Disease. She had inherited it from her mother, who had also died from the disease; she was on my moms side of the family. Of course I felt bad but not as bad as I felt after I saw my grandpa. He was crying.. Now this is the man who I always pictured as the invincible cowboy, and I never really saw him as the man who had to watch his wife and two daughters die. I knew we had been cheated. I got to waverly and once again didn't say a word. Just kept going. But I started noticing changes. my grades dropped. I hardly ever wanted to hang out with friends. At this point I saw the glass half full. Half full of the mistakes and the pain and half full of the facade I put up. There wasn't anything else. Just me and the other me. And for a while after this I thought things were going to get better. It only goes down hill from here.