Why? Why do I go through this? I think I might just be bipolar. But, regardless, I've had it. Enough. I'm done. I hate Florida, I hate myself, I hate what I've become, as well as what more I'll turn out to be. I'm angry. Sad. Suicidal. Homicidal. Genocidal. And I can't explain why. Maybe you can help me. My dad has Parkinson's disease, as some of you may know, and it is, inherently, a degenerative disease of the mind. About a month ago now, his condition got much worse. Overnight. He could barely stand up, or speak, and couldn't even swallow correctly to eat. We had him taken to ORMC, Osceola Regional Medical Center, to see what was wrong. He was in there, for the better part of two to three weeks. I was home alone alot of the time, and was fine. They changed his neural implant, which helps with his Parkinson's symptoms. It had stopped working, and they replaced it. They tried to send him home, and we had to take 2 hours to get him into the car, out of the car, and into the house, with 4 or 5 people. We had him home, with me and my stepmom taking care of him. I barely went to school for about two weeks, having been up all night taking care of Dad, I also had no time to speak to my girlfriend, who I missed everyday, and wanted to talk to. My phone had been disconnected, and it was useless for a few weeks. I could talk to no one, not anybody, and I had no time of my own to talk on the computer. Then, after just a while, we got him a bit better and my stepmom could now take care of most of my dad's needs. We got my phone reconnected, and I could now talk to people with some time. My girlfriend seemed to have moved on. My mates in band, seemed indifferent to how long I was gone. It was like I got thrown in a vault, which time flew by slower, and a thousand years had gone by, while it only felt like two weeks to me. Everything had changed. I no longer gained happiness from writing. Songs seemed to just float in the air, like lazy clouds, giving no joy or relief. Games just became nothing. And worst of all? I felt angry. Anger. Rage, Wrath. That's all I felt like. Hate. I hate everything, it seems like. I used to be like a hippie. Free love, peace, and just do your own thing. It feels like I've turned into Nixon now. Shriveled, bitter, blackened, callous Nixon. I've never felt so damn angry in my life, and I can't explain why. I also feel equally sad. And I can't explain that either. I just want to be happy. Do I need love? A purpose? A shot to the head? I don't know. And I could really care less about the answer, cause I'm willing to try anything.