Oy.

I feel physically ill. Nauseous, almost. I didn't sleep much last night. I think depression has reared its head again, and I am unwilling at this point to cope with the monster.

I got a phone call from my dad yesterday. My grandma Sandry has cancer of the uterus. She underwent surgery a day or two ago, and "they think they got it all," but as with many virulent afflictions, they can't be sure. A few weeks prior to this, I learned that my Uncle Tony committed suicide. He left a note, but no one's told me anything else besides the fact that he died, and that he died by his own hand. This is the second uncle on the same side of the family to commit suicide. How's that for a legacy to leave to your children? My first uncle killed himself with a shotgun. I still don't know how Tony died ... nor do I think I want to. This means that I know three people (on a very personal level) who've taken their own lives. The other was Bonnie, a wonderful, sweet, caring, spritely woman who died late last summer by (you guessed it) a self-inflicted gunshot wound. I worked with her at 'the Mart,' and she was such a motherly figure to me. In fact, there are times when I just can't fathom how she could get so low that she would commit suicide. A lot of people think there was foul play involved, as Bonnie was renowned for her love of life, her love of her husband, her love of her family, and her love of her job. Some days, I still can't believe she's gone.

Josh did very little in the way of comforting me last night. Halfway through a third bout of sobbing, I called Klein. That worked very, very well. He got me to talk about other things, things I could laugh at and things I could make fun of. There was no way I'd call anyone else -- I've known him for ten years, and we've weathered some pretty bad times together. I was also in the middle of a sorta-fight with Joshua, so I guess he just didn't register as someone that I could talk to at the moment. Of course, I called him back after Klein played psychiatrist and I guess everything's okay now. I'm at a time when I'm angered easily, so it wasn't all of Blaster Kitty's fault ... but sometimes, he should know better than to do some of the things he does. I've hounded him on certain subjects for a year now, and I do see some improvement ... but as with all things, I just want to feel like an absolute goddess -- his absolute goddess -- and there are times when I feel very far from it.

I'm sick of school. I'm sick of having six different classes that have exams ALL in the same two weeks. Once more, I have an Art History and Zoology (lecture) exam next Friday. Same day. I'll have to study for both subjects on the same nights. This means more four-hour cram sessions every night of the week leading up to next Friday. Halle-fucking-lujah. The week after that, I've got a Zoology (lab) test Thursday. Again, more cram sessions as the professor is absolutely CRAZY and includes things from random tangents in the test (last time we had questions about 'Mad' King Otto and Queen Victoria alongside questions about microscopes and meiosis). He makes me want to cry sometimes. Just for the sheer insanity of it all. The only light at the end of the tunnel is the fact that SPRING BREAK is two weeks away. Two weeks away. Then I have a week off from the drudgery, from the laborious routine, from the IDIOTIC people on campus. *Sigh* I'm looking forward to it very, very much.

Now I'm cold. I have a long-sleeved shirt and a T-shirt on, and I'm cold. And hungry. Lunch with Brian, Nate, Joe, and Amy isn't until 1. It's only twenty to eleven now. Dammit. I have a single blue Jolly Rancher in the bottom of my backpack somewhere. I'll have to fish that out, I suppose. Maybe it'll help this nausea thing.