Tonight, I just watched several 3rd season Millennium episodes, including The Innocents and Seven & One.

I feel like there's something inside me, ready to burst.... Or just that it's been in me so long it's outgrown its environment.

I don't know if there's really something to all of this, or if it's all in my head. Either way, it's slowly eating away at me.

I don't know what led to it, but Mom and I started talking about Laury's death this past week. She pointed out the fact that she didn't think I'd reacted "normally". That I never got angry, raged, cried or anything. I reminded her I fell apart when we saw the report on the news... (by the way, I now know why they make sure family has been notified before airing the names of someone who's the victim of a crime on the TV. Since I wasn't 'family', I was not spared this).... All she said was that I'd started screaming "I KNEW IT! I KNEW HE'D DO THIS! I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED HIM! I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL KILL HIM, I'LL KILL HIM...'' and that it was then, that they got to that part of the report, stating that Calvin had shot himself to death. Mom said.... "He's already dead.".... and something inside of me shut down. I had known what he was going to do. I'd sensed it, months before, and had tried to warn her. Now, what felt like the only way I had to make things right.... which was hunt him down myself and kill him....even that had been taken away.

My next memory was hours later, sitting outside with the dogs.... There seemed no point in anything. How does one just go through a regular spring evening, going through the exact same motions through the day.... Feeding the horses, walking the dogs, watering the flowers... (trying to "keep the peace" with my parents the way I had my whole life, with acts of placating and dodging guilt).... after something like this?

That night, I sat upright in my bed.... unable to sleep, staring into space, and I saw a light on the left side of the room. I told myself I'd imagined the whole thing. It was a large, milky white cloud, but I just kept telling myself I'd made it up in my head.

I remember Mom asking me didn't I want to talk. All I could think was... "What is there to say? She's dead." In talking about this the other day, she said for the millionth time that this had affected me, and that I should express it. I shot back... "It isn't ABOUT me!" Which is the same thing I've said to two therapists, several friends, and her more than once. "This isn't ABOUT me!"

Now... 7 years and 3 months later.... Why am I still here? What's the point of anything anymore? I've clung to something she said about Millennium.... about my journey and Frank's being the same. About ME being the same as Frank. But, did I make it all up in my head? If I was as "gifted" as everyone thinks, wouldn't I have been able to save her? Wouldn't I have been able to save a LOT of people?

I've been a lost cause all my life.... and yet I'm still here.

I think God forgot to pick me up when it was my time.