I am talking with my friend Ted right now. He’s debating about whether to get a Ipod Nano or an Ipod Video which I constructed a list for him – a pro/con list (I am an expert at them now…).

I think about my shuffle. I miss my shuffle. I also lost my pen (luckily I had three more) but silly enough even so, I still wanted to finish it. I wanted to for once use the pen till all the ink is gone. It’s really silly I know. But little things like that matter to me. Kind of.

I also lost my eraser. I’ve been using it for a little over a year now. I wanted to use it till it ends too. I tape it everytime after I cut off part of the paper that wraps it. I miss that too. I don’t like using new erasers. I like finishing the one I had. I like – things staying exactly the same, almost.

Or well, I don’t like change. But the reason I am writing is because I realized how I like to settle for little things. Little things make me happy. Like if I was to find money one day – I think of it as making up for all the money I’ve lost over the years – for the things I’ve lost.

Like that one time I gained 10 dollars accidently from someone and hadn’t realized it till I was home. I used that money to purchase some of the school supplies I lost over the years. That way, I don’t feel so ripped off. I mean sure its a couple of bucks, but little things, things that I can call mine, mean something to me. It gives me this assurance that people can’t take it from me. It has sentimental value. It – makes me feel like I am someone sometimes. Having ownership over something that’s mine, it foolishly fills in some of the spaces and void I feel. It makes me feel – like I was alive once. Like I have things. Things that are called mine, things that have marks like pen marks and scratches that represent a memory, my use. Things that remind me that I am alive, that is proof that I have been alive regardless of how dismissed I feel a lot of the time.

I identify with this book, My SIster’s Keeper a lot. I really like it. I almost like it enough to want to be Anna. She captures the neglectance I feel. She captures the pain that I feel. Only unlike her, being a wanted child, I was not a wanted child. I was a “mistake” and despite being not completely normal with health issues like Kate – that may have gave me attention, love, or some affection but they didn’t hold on. In fact, them like me – sometimes forget that I am not “normal.”

A lot more people have it worst, I agree. But…I don’t know. Somehow as much as I live in denial – material compensation like TV shows and music and books that take me away from reality for a while is only just for a while and only temporarily.

Sorry I drift off into other topics often. But anyways as I was saying – the Ipod shuffle that I missed. I know that I’d settle for it. As much as I want the Ipod video, as much as I want the Creative Video. I still don’t want something that expensive, one because of its price and two because truthfully I don’t think I deserve it at all. I mean, to be honest, there’s a lot of things I don’t deserve, like the DVD sets I purchase for myself.

But, having that – is something I know I don’t know…more. A darker reminder of shame that I have something I don’t deserve and that is so imbedded in my brain that I don’t think I’d ever be fully happy that I have it. It kind of makes me not want it as much too.

Its funny. How ever since I was small. I like little things. I rather have a small house or a small apartment than a big house. Being in the plane or in a hotel was enough to make me feel like a celebrity, to feel pampered. I liked Honda Civics since I was in grade seven. When everyone else went for nicer cars and models like Porche. I was just happy with my Honda Civic. I still love it and now that they keep making it better and redesigning it – others like it too. But I liked it somewehat better than what it was. When it was simple.

A friend once said to me that I have a habit of purchasing something that no one would want because I felt like that. It was this one time, I purchased a Ty stuff plush- it was a Buffalo, Rome. There were TONS of him in the store, he was the one with the most, while others Ty plush only had one or two in stock like the frog and dog. But I purchased it. I purchased it because no one wanted it. I bought it everywhere with me in grade eight.

Maybe that is why. There were some moments recently before that incident on my birthday. Some moments when my sister didn’t return home from school for the weekend. Some moments when I felt like I was truly loved and didn’t have to keep fighting for my parent’s affection. Even if its just for a moment.

It’s not that I didn’t want her home. She’s their child. Their first child. The child they wanted. The child who didn’t grow up with problems. The child who wasn’t born too early. She’s the child my dad placed all his hopes on. She the child who is becoming the person they always thought she could be. She’s as she said once “the better one” and I am “the alien,” I should have been very offended by that when she said ti to me countless times. But instead I looked up – wanted to be different and kind of hoping that my real family was waiting and looking for me.

That’s gone now. Everything went back to normal. Everything. I think that’s why I love Him so much and believe in Him so much because He stood for someone who loved me – who I didn’t have to fight for, prove myself to. Who loved me, just the same. Who cared if I died or not. There was a time when I wanted to die just to see who would really care, most of the time, though it was because I thought life was too painful to live. To painful that it was not worth living. I was too unhappy.

Then there’s other times, when my parents were fighting, when my sister was lying and disobeying my parents, when I had to do chores and other “handy work” around the house, that I felt I was put here to maintain the balance. I was put here to help them out. I felt purposeful but it didn’t mean I was put here because I was wanted, only to help others. And sure that’s suppose to be something good enough but for the amount of pain I feel sometimes, feeling unloved, feeling unwanted, feeling alone, its not a good reason at all. Selfishly, it’s not a good reason or good enough.