Well, now. It's been awhile. Yes, yes. Same redundant beginning as always, of course. My life has been unbelievably hectic, not to mention that I've been plagued with a consistently overwhelming lethargy. I'm a little settled for the moment. So, here begins the first in a series of entries on my life! Well, what else would they be on? Of course, conveying only events can be a bit dry, so I will try to put more into it. Also, just a little syntax note: If I type in all capital letters at any point, it is to mock people.

Where to start? I believe, the last thing that I actually wrote about was meeting Richard. That was nice. Remember how I talked about how lonely summer was? That didn't really get much better throughout the whole vacation, but I managed to survive that. It really wasn't that bad. It actually went away as soon as I stopped taking the medication that I was on, which is just dandy. Of course, the medicine I was on was for ADHD, which means that I was a tad antsy. I don't really think that my energy was so much from a disorder, as it was from spending too much time not actually doing physical exercise.

Speaking of physical exercise, this summer I started taking dance. I started off with modern, ballet, and jazz. Jazz was terrifying, and I'm not taking it right now, nor will I ever take it again. Ever. For any reason, unless I'm dying from a jazz deficiency. It was just, too flamingly homosexual. I was dancing to Britney Spears, shaking my hips, and wearing horribly awkward jazz shoes. I'm glad that's over with. Modern was nice, though being barefoot was a bit bothersome. It hurt my feet a tad. I'm not taking that now either, though I really wish I was. My teacher told me that I was picking it up very well, though it was difficult at first. I was far from flexible enough. I'm continuing with ballet now, however. It's really nice. It has given me amazing muscles. I've seemingly gotten a lot stronger, and I've put on weight, without looking like it. It's actually pretty surprising how strong I am. I love it, even if ballet is fairly painful.

I ended up not taking AP history. I was far too apathetic to get all of the work done over the summer. It was pretty ridiculous. I'm glad I didn't take it now, though, because I'm pretty lacking in motivation, and I'm having a hard enough time trying to keep up with all of my school work right now (for reasons that I will explain later). I didn't finish all of my AP English work, but I got to most of it. I wasn't dropped from the class or anything. My involvement with the teacher of the class is actually pretty important.

But, before I got to any of my school work, something happened at home. As soon as I stopped taking my medicine, my relationship with my parents seemed to stop being very positive. Well, not that it ever really was, as you may or may not know. My parents have been sort of a taboo subject in this blog as they have followed my blog entries. They won't be much of a problem now. I'll give a huge entry dedicated to my relationship with them, and the huge gap in understanding that I have with them soon enough.

In any event, my fights with my parents had been escalating, not that it seemed to phase me, because I had kind of grown immune to their verbal assaults and retardation. I ended up running away for an evening. I just left, without anything. I was walking around the streets without a single thing on me, besides a blanket, some clothing, and my phone. I ended up calling a friend that I met in my French class Sophomore year; a girl whom I love dearly. She ended up picking me up at a Friendly's near my house. Her mother is the nicest person. I still can't believe how it all happened, but it did. I ended up staying the night with Moekenzie, but we both stayed up a tad late, of course.  My mother decided to stay up all night texting me, going crazy because I had left without telling her where I was going. My mother ended up picking me up at the grocery store while I was shopping with Moekenzie and her mother. It was pretty ridiculous. She then decided to bring me to the hospital.

To the emergency room.

For being A DANGER TO MYSELF AND OTHERS.

Essentially, I just sat around for a few hours to talk to a social worker, who told my mother that I was perfectly normal, and that she was being overdramatic. Surprising? Not really! She seems to think that I'm incredibly manipulative and control the social workers into believing what I want them to. How paranoid. I wonder if it has something to do with how often she smokes.

Anyway, so I ended up writing for my English class about how I was homeless. My classmates and I were supposed to interpret the meaning of "home." So I told my teacher about my family life, and because a home is where a person should feel secure, I described myself as homeless at the time.