No Sleep, No Place

Funny how little things can raise me up and drop me down. I was having a productive weekend. Now, I want to cry. I can't though. There's something fundamentally wrong with me. I just don't know what it isn't.
Dad got mad, because he doesn't spend enough time with my brother.
He said it was my fault.
My fault, for being so time consuming, so needy, having so many things to do, making him my taxi cab.
He said he ALWAYS spends time with me, but never with my brother. But, he got mad when I cited the fact that just last night, it was he who told my brother to shut up, while forcing me to watch a 2 hour long bore, that even he had trouble staying awake through. Then, in the morning, when I still managed to drag myself out of bed, only because I knew I had some work to do, he made me watch yet another movie, on the same damn guilt trip.
Then, I didn't get to do my math before going to the English thing, to which Dad begrudgingly drove me. Then, he complained the whole way about having no time for my brother. I apologized. No response.
I wondered about how much easier life would be for him without me.
I figured significantly.
Then, I felt awkward as hell at the book fair. Only my friend Meghan's own notion of being out of place dwarfed and downplayed my own. I never feel right in groups.
I talked too much, as always, and listened too little. I wanted to shut myself up, but couldn't.
Then, dad stalked me about the store, like a lost puppy, and guilt tripped me home.
I was too euphoric, from nothing much other than having some friends to make me laugh, to feel too burdensome.
Funny, how dad wasted his morning forcing me to watch a movie that was good, when I was trying to do my math homework. Funny, how he was mad at me, because he'd spent no time with my brother. Funny, how after the euphoria of the concert, when I got home; they were both so hostile towards their unwelcome guest-- myself.
Their movie was on so loud that it rattled the strings on my bass. Forget sleep. So, I didn't take my melatonin, and now, I'll be up for at least another two hours--- there goes tomorrow. So, I wont pass Geometry.
So, I wont edit my paper.
My brother is vomiting in the next room. He's got the cough I had last week, but not quite as deep as I did.
I glared when he peeked in my door, but when he left, the fire ran out of my head, and I ran after him to help in my cold way. I wish I could take back the cough that I gave, take it all back, and then just leave.
This rage should not be directed at my brother. Dad kept me up two nights, and then blamed me for this. Yet, somehow, I feel stupid, trying to pin this on him. The true trouble originates with the troubled.
I haven't eaten dinner or lunch. My stomach is tied up in knots, and I feel no hunger.
Just tucked my brother in bed with a heating pad.
I want to make noise just to piss off my dad, since he's already fucked it up for me for the next week; and there's only so many days left of school. Now, I can't go to camp. Now, I'm pretty sure I wont make it through the summer. I just hate everything. I don't want to be living.