.:] As I Write The Last Entry... [:.

I am wearing earplugs.
I am also wearing headphones.
I'm still listening to Norah Jones.
The CD player volume is the highest it can go. It's on 9.
That's right - earplugs and headphones.

My father sings FUCKING KARAOKE in the next room.
The bass vibrates through the walls, through the floor, through my sneakers, into my feet.
I know better than to ask my father to BLOODY WELL TURN IT DOWN.

I have my winter coat on.
My hat and scarf are still on too.
My hands are cold from going outside. Again.
This last time I sat outside eating my yogurt.

I am singing.
I can hear my voice clearly.
I can hear Norah's quite distinctly.
My father's voice is a persistant, haunting, AND BLOODY ANNOYING ghost in my world of music

There are huge spaces, gaping spaces of FUCKIN GODDAMN KARAOKE as Norah and I stop between songs but the EVIL NEVER FUCKING ENDING KARAOKE GOES ON AND ON AND FUCKING ON....

They are all love songs. HE'S SO ATTUNED TO SINGING THE FUCKING WORDS THAT HIGHLIGHT ACROSS THE UNFOLDING SUN SETTING LOVE STORY BETWEEN TWO HORRIBLE ACTORS AND SCREECHING TO HIT THAT GODDAMN BLOODY HIGH NOTE and he doesn't see how these songs pain his daughter and her aching heart...

OH MY DEAR GOD!!!!! NOT FUCKING "BORN FREE" AGAIN>>>>

The phone just rang.

I yell out: "PHONE'S RINGING!!!!!!"
My father holds onto his GODDAMN MICROPHONE AND THE GOD BLOODY DAMN KARAOKE MUSIC PLAYS FUCKIN ON as he answers the phone.
I pray. Hard.
My prayer goes unanswered.

If I can hear and decipher what my Dad is saying...
I think he was welcoming some friends over....
Probably to sing karaoke...
I pray again.
Let me die. please...