Might I add, it has nothing to do with the damn list.

It's just... so many things seem to be piling up, so much shit draws ever nearer and old shit piles up and I've got walls and walls of this around me by now, new shit and old shit alike and I can't even see what's around me anymore or where I'm going in life and I just feel so lost and I have no one and nowhere to turn. It's like I'm blind here, man, I can't even see where I'm putting my feet.

Work sucks, that's a given. Here at home, things aren't so great either. Alexis is moving back down and that's just got me on edge, with the hair all over my body just standing on point and ready to pounce. Scratch that -- ready to kill. I just can't take this shit anymore. I finally got around to giving Mak' an oil change and fuel injection system service, but his radiator's still gotta be flushed, and his spark plugs changed out and then there's still Cyke I gotta think about and I was supposed to go get him fixed this weekend. And I've still gotta get his papers fixed too. Which will all add up to over five hundred easy. Speaking of which, I've got Pifas's cable bill and our mutual family share plan cell phone bill to pay too. And the Citifinancial payment is coming up soon too. All these expenses are gonna drive me up the wall, but if I start asking people (specifically the Dud) for the money I'm owed, they'll get offended. Fuckin' pricks always do. "I'm trying to make a living here and you're just making shit harder!" they'll say. Yeah. Like I'm fuckin' not.

Then there's that deal with Mar�a and Nacho. Fuck it, forget Nacho. Mar�a's the one that's let me down the most. Fuckin' fat bitch. And then the Dud won't shut up about it. "Oh, what a fat whore!" she says. All day, it seems, which I know it's not. But it feels like she's complaining about her all day anyway. Shit, why doesn't she just end it all by calling her up and getting this over with? Why's she gotta tell me? I already told the fatass what she's done wrong in our friendship. I already told her we're drifting apart, and that if she's not careful, it's all over between her and my family. I've done my part, why can't Dud?

And Mar�a just brings it all back to work, and I don't even wanna think about that place. UPS sucks. Point made, I move on back home. The mess in my room. I was doing so well clearing that shit up. Now it's all piling up again, and Dud won't understand it's because I sometimes have to work Saturdays and because I've got not time due to all the piled up other-shit I've got in my life that's accumulated over the week and over the weeks and weeks and months before that the weekends are never enough to cover. She'll just bitch. Especially now that Alexis is coming back. When he's here, she'll try to deflect his faults with mine. She'll say I have no right not liking him for being a lazy-ass and a good-for-nothing father because I'm a lazy-ass and look at the state my room is in, you can hardly walk around in there and what's that damn smell it stinks of dead animal ass or something dunked in a swamp. And he's a bad father? Did I bite my tongue there or what? Look at the state of my poor animals! Those dogs! When was the last time I took them for a walk, the poor things! I'll bet Alexis would be a better owner than I am currently being, I should be ashamed. And 'Ama will nod and add to the list. I leave my shit everywhere! Dirty dishes, clothes I never get around to putting away - I never even volunteer to throw the trash away, I have to be told at least six times.

Shit, bitches! I'm tired! You fuckin' try working in a damn warehouse for eleven hours a day, see how you fuckin' like it. It's not like they pay me to scratch my balls or something. Fuck.

And that's just home life. Don't even get me started on what's going on with family. Blanca's having marriage problems to the point Sergio's going away to California tomorrow for God knows how long. Sarai and Junior probably just heard the news a few hours ago, and G�ero's rebelling. He's a preteen now, and this shit that's going on with his parents is probably not helping much. He used to be so close with me; I used to babysit them when Junior was still in diapers and G�ero had to be, what, seven? Eight? Not even. He used to hug me all the time, and we'd wrestle and I'd give them all horsey rides around in the yard or on the floor of their living room. Back home in the projects. Now he won't even talk to me. "�Ya no me saludas?" I asked him today. Won't you say "hi" to me anymore at least? His answer, a flat "no." Just like that. And just like that he closed me off, just like that he shut me off and killed a small part of me. I love that kid, he's family by now. They're my only family here in the States, because I often feel the ones in Houston and Dallas don't count. My eyes got wet right now, just thinking about it. I love those kids so damn much. It stings that he can't trust me anymore, can't look to me for help, like he used to when he was small and scraped his knee. I tried to hug him and he just tensed up. He wouldn't even look at me. All I could do was ask him to take care of himself (the reply again was "no", flat and cold as death), and depart with a heavy heart. I know he needs me, but he doesn't want me, and I don't know what I can do to get through to him, or fuck it, get someone, anyeone to get through to him. It just... all this just brings my world down.

Some days, I don't know how I get through it all. Twenty-four hours can be eternal.

Worst of all, the backest cherry on this sundae from hell... T�a Paz died.

T�a Paz, my great-aunt, H�elita's older sister. She always knew how to make everything better. Even though I hadn't seen her in years, the knowledge that she was there, somewhere, comforted and inspired me. I even promised myself that if I were to ever have a son, I would name him Shalom, in her honor. The Hebrew word for "peace" which is what her name means in Spanish. My name means warrior (not in Spanish); I was meant to fight, not have peace, I assume. And at this point in my life, I feel each day is a struggle already, and I'm only twenty-three. Already my shoulders sag under all this damn weight. Through it all, T�a Paz was my role model. I wanted, and still do, wanna be just like her. Just as noble, as kind and gentle, as loyal and filled with faith as she was. As giving and wise. I always felt she was a messenger from Diosito, sent to help guide me on my journey. I always felt she had all the answers to my problems, and if I could just see her again, she could help me stop from being so alone and confused. She could help me heal inside so I could fight, if fight is what I was born to do. But fight the good way, the right way that God wants us to fight. Like Martin Luther King, I guess. But she's gone now, gone! And just thinking about that makes me feel more lost than I ever have in my whole life, and I feel like I can't do it, I can't do this. I can't do this life, it's too much for me. I'm lost, lost, God, I'm lost and I can't help anyone, not even myself. I can feel the hot tears streaming down my face now; they are hot in my eyes and burn but cool on my flesh. I can't keep myself from shaking with sobs and I rock myself slowly back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on the edge of my seat. I let my hair hang over my face and I try to steady my breathing.