"I need you to pray for me, and I need you to care for me. And I need you to want me to win; I need to know where I'm headed 'cause I know where I've been..."

They are invading my space. God, I hate him! My sister and her husband are here. They got here from New Jersey last night. I have finally met my nephew for the first time. He's a tiny miracle of God. And I can't even enjoy him.

As my sister's plane was landing, I was slaving away at work, my father was driving to the airport, and my uncle was dead. It all happened so fast. 'Apa got the call and broke down, from what 'Ama tells me. His blood pressure and sugar level shot up; he became shaky and couldn't drive. He recovered enough to where he laughed upon meeting his grandson. Innocently, Angelito laughed and laughed with his strange new grandpa. Con su abuelo. Dud drove home. They got home after I pulled into the driveway at home. I'd been worried all day and insisting on going home early. 'Apa was composed but saw me and broke down again. God, I'm such a fuck! Why, why did I have to look like his dead brother?! I held my aging father in my tired arms and patted his back in shock as he sobbed into my shoulder like a small boy. I've only ever seen my father cry this badly twice before in my life: once when Me�o, his best and most loyal friend died of a stroke (brought on by a cocaine overdose), and once before that, when Duki, his dog, his best and most loyal companion was stolen from his side. His sobbs shook and reverberated within my ribcage and his pain was my own. Yet I could not cry. I have yet to spill a tear for one of my most beloved relatives.

I mean, all this time, of course I knew T�o Crus was going to die. It's been one of my most guarded secrets for an eternal month. I was told he had terminal brain cancer two days before Dud gave birth to Angel. I have been slowly falling apart since then. And I mean literally: my dissassociation has been getting stronger; all my alternate personalities have been taking turns at my brain's wheel in a vain attempt to keep myself sane. The stress is too much. [I don't like mentioning my mental state in this diary. That's what I have the other one for, but I can't get this feeling off my chest if I don't delve into it now.] I can't get ahold of myselves right now, nor do I really want to. It's just too much, too much...

This is by far, the crappiest Christmas ever. The worst holidays of all time. On December 20th, Angel Alejandro turned two months old. Crus died on December 21st, and they're burying him on the 23rd, today, which is Dud's birthday. And then comes Christmas Eve, and then Christmas. And my brain melts. I can't cry. I can't cry! I've tried, and I can't! And the only time I came close was at work, with strangers, and that's pretty fuckin' sad, that I'd trust them with my pain instead of my family.

But the thing is, Alexis is not family. Not to me. And yeah, I know I'm an ass, but he's worse. I've been trying, really I have, to get along with him all of last night and today. For the baby's sake, and my sister's. But he's not making shit easier! Fuckin' bastard! He's picking on me all fuckin' night tonight, and I'm just done playin', I'm done sayin' that I'm done playin'! I'ma start layin' any of these goddamn cocksuckers...!

Da Ninja is one of my prominent alternate personalities, what psychologists categorize as a "frontrunner." That means he's responsible for over half the shit all my personalities do. Some people have shitload of frontrunners, some only one, depending, of course, on the amount of personalities they have. I have eleven personalities and three of them are frontrunners. Ninja is one of them, and he's violent as fuck. This is the guy that causes me to to fight in my sleep and punches holes in solid walls. He's keeps a gun stashed in my room, just in case, he says, but his bloody and violent fantasies are always present in my mind. He constantly makes me insomniac, just like now. He's loud and aggressive, and very dangerous. Seriously now, I wouldn't wish for anyone to meet him. The only person who has some sway over him, apart from all my other personalities, is Mar�a. I sometimes wonder if he's in love with her; he'd do anything for her. And he's not getting along with Alexis at all, and so we have to let Yang through to calm him, to neutralize. Yang Black is not a frontrunner, but we let him through because he's Ninja's best friend. They're as close as brothers, because they are brothers, duh. And Yang's a really laid-back type of guy. Not much bothers him, and when it does, he's good at hiding it. His solution to everything is a good smoke, which he did just now. Unfortunately, 'Ama smelled the smoke in my room and worried. How to explain to her that we'd rather pollute our lungs than stab my sister's husband? And I'm all bunched up right now, my muscles are, and all three frontrunners are working hard to maintain integrated and in control, but we're failing miserably! Grizzly and Svl are the other two frontrunners in me. Grizz writes, which is why I'm trying to vent here, and Svl expresses himself best in drawing. He's also a cold-ass fucker, which is why we need him just now. I can't let Alexis get to me, although he's been riding my damn ass all fuckin' night. He criticizes my driving skills, which, I'll admit, are not at my best right now, since I haven't slept worth shit for the past week, and he snapps at me for "hurting my van's feelings." The fuck?! In other words, this pendejo wants to tell me how to drive. Worse yet, he wants to tell Ninja how to drive, and no one knows cars better than Ninja, at least, no one knows our cars better than Ninja. It took all the strength I had to keep my cool when he insinuated that I couldn't drive for shit. He was pissed when he said it too, which just irritated me more. Then to top shit off, he scoffs at my accomplishments, at my past. 'Ama has all our "trophies" on the wall of the hallway. There, she has my sister's orchestra plaques and my A.J.R.O.T.C. trophies. And there's a signed photograph of President George W. Bush addressed to me on the wall too. Alexis doesn't like Bush, says he wishes he could stab him. Like I give a fuck. My politics are my problem and no one else's. He glanced and my plaques from Drill Team and scoffed at the term "Cadet" before my name. Just because he's in the "real" Army. Shit, I got that plaque in high school, I ain't like that no more. And I'm not too proud of that area of my life anyway, so I wouldn't have minded if it weren't for the fact that I made some really good friends in ROTC. That plaque represents all my Drill Team members and the pride I felt at the time, a booger head at 14, knowing that I could handle a rifle while I marched now. It reminded me of my mother's tears of joy when she first saw me march, like she cried every time Dud played Concert Mistress in orchestra, her cinimmon body swaying with the melody of her violin. And he scoffed at that! Bastard! He's a fuck-headed idiot that has no right to enter my world, especially at a time like this when I can't defend myself because I'm busy mourning a man that I considered a father figure growing up because my real father was off gone somewhere. Not now when I can't cry because I'm a brand new uncle but my own uncle is dead. Not now, not now, not now not now not now not not not now not not now now not not tnow tnow not tnownottnononotntontontownowntwontowmNOTNOW!!!!!!!

And I don't want him to infuluence me. I want him to fall off the face of the earth. I want him to be dead instead of mi T�o Crus, because the bastard has no right! He keeps making snide remarks about Mexicans (he's Dominican) while eyeing me out of the corner of his eye, a dare in his eye. And I could easily take up his challenge and beat his ass to a pulp, despite the fact this fucker is about a foot taller than me, I could coil up and let Ninja take over me completely, and grab a knife and scalp that fuckin' bastard... but no, no, no. I've got to pull together. I can't let this kill me, I can't. And he even said he was looking for a fight, that he wanted someone to jump on him for being such an ass, and I know he wants that someone to be me, so he can jump back and see if he is, indeed, tougher than me. He'd like to be, I'm sure, pero yo siempre tendre mas huevos. My damn balls are bigger and always shall be. And I won't play his fuckin' little sick twisted game, because honestly, I don't need this shit just now.