i'm watching the TV show, Skins.

Tying to get my mind off of her. But it's not really helping.

It's the UK version, the original version. I don't really like British television. None of the actors are attractive, they all have fucked up teeth and I can't understand what they're saying.

We don't know when she'll come home yet. Not yet.

I want so badly to blame her for all of this. My life is pretty much Hell right now. I've never worried so much or been so sidetracked about something so serious.

And in her letter she said she was fine. She said she'd be fine and not to worry about her. If she's fine why is she not at home. Why wasn't she at school all week.

I wrote her first. All jokey and stuff. Trying to use as many inside jokes as I could. I was almost afraid she'd be so brain dead that she wouldn't remember how to laugh. The letter she responded with proved otherwise. It was almost as if she were at a summer camp, her tone was calm. Like nothing was wrong.

I'm literally wishing, yearning for 7 o'clock to roll around.

That's when visiting hour ends and on the way home mommy will call me and tell me how she is.

The last couple of days I've tried to pretend like this happens to a lot of people. And this is only for the best and it's not weird it's just something that's happened.

My sister is in a mental hospital.

This actually happened and I'm living it. And I sat in social studies yesterday taking notes, my mind wondering and I tried to keep from crying.

This actually happened. This is actually happening.

The story of a bystander.