Get Out.

It was an emotional evening, and that's putting it lightly. Tempers flared, tears poured, and all hell broke loose. My sister S., made yet another mistake. She told my parents about it, but was avoiding coming home. Things escalated when my dad couldn't get her to call him. My dad had my mom text her and had me text her. Being the middle child, I always end up being the middle man. The person people communicate through. You know the saying "don't shoot the messenger?" Well I got shot a lot last night. S. finally decided to come home so she could sit down and talk with my dad, so it looked like that worst was over.

Then I got called up. I sat down with my dad, and he asked the question, "If your child was going down a path of destruction, what would you do?" I didn't have an answer. "Someone as smart as you should be able to figure out an answer." I hate it when he says that. Just because I may be smart when it comes to school doesn't mean I have an answer for everything in life. I honestly had no clue what I would have done in that situation, and I don't want to know.

It seemed like everything was fine. M, S, and I all sat in my room talk about theology of all things. We were having a good time too until my dad came down and told us all to go to bed (it was really late). M left right away, but S and I chatted a little more. My mom came in to the room and demanded S and I pack our bags a get out of the house. We were shocked. Surprised. Befuddled. What the hell was going on now? My mom went on to say that my dad was leaving the house because of what was going on, and instead of him leaving it should be us. Sarah started putting up a fight. I, on the other hand, looked at her and told her, "Fine, let's leave." I knew we didn't have anywhere to go, but that didn't matter.

Finally my dad came downstairs. We were able to patch things up enough for S and I to be able to stay. He confessed that it was all his fault. He assumed that S, M, and I were all talking about him. Never assume anything. He couldn't have been more wrong. I'm hurt by this: It's not the first time I've been kicked out of the house.

I know I'm supposed to move on, but it's really hard to forgive and forget.

Maybe the third time will be the charm.