Author's Note: I didn't honestly think this was good enough to put online, but Molly said it was. So here I am.

I wish I knew what was going on inside her head. I wish I knew how she can have her 21 nightly cans of beer. How she tells me not to worry about dinner, just to make some damn Top Ramen and go to bed. I wish I knew for sure weather she remembers every night when she wakes up the next morning and pretends that everything is fine.

Sometimes I bring it up, she avoids the topic of the night before and does it again the next day. She's unaware, I can shout and kick and break, but she'll never even notice. She might tell me to stop, and then head to the fridge for another Keystone. She still wouldn't do anything about it. She couldn't if she tried.

Sometimes I live to dread the nights on which my dad aren't home, the nights without an intelligent human being to talk to. Sometimes I love them, for I'm the one in charge. Good day or bad, the cycle continues.

I try not to cry. Poeple say they look up to me, because I can take anything and I'm not one to dissapoint. They are amazed, they never see me cry. I'm durable. I have to be, in front of them. So I don't cry in front of them, I keep it to myself until I'm alone. Then it comes.

In all this time, I've figured out a lot about tears. For instance, if one were to cry all the time, there would be no need for words. Tears can almost always get the point across, one way or another. Sadness, happiness, anger, worry, pain, sickness. That's about it, right? Except love. I don't think love can be communicated with tears. That's what I think as I cry, this time.

She wakes me up in the morning, and I almost go crazy with the urge to kill her. She's just so stupid. I go to school, and use my mother's alcoholism as a punchline, as I do everyday. I know I shouldn't. I know it's wrong of me, that it's not a laughing matter. But I laugh regardless, and the world laughs with me. It's all a joke until I go back home.

That's when I finally lose it. After making my brother dinner because my mom forgot again, I call a friend. She gives me a place to stay, and the next day she invites all of my friends to cheer me up. I know she ment well, but I break down, engulfed in tears. They try to understand, but none of them really know. But one friend in particular is actually helpful. He tells me that it's all alright, that he'll be there if I need a helping hand. He gets me to settle down, and dries my tears. Though the tears are gone, they still convey a message. That was the day I found out that love can be told by tears.