Runaway

Vanessa wanted to fight with the entire family last night. Bloated and moody from PMS she instigated a number of wildfires before I physically had to stop her from provoking Miriam into a fistfight. She hit herself in her own chest with a high heel in her own rage, slamming into her bathroom, her face swollen with hatred for us all.

In ultra-dramatic fashion, on an 85 degree evening, she put on her heavy letter jacket and shoes. Translation: I'm obviously running away, someone stop me please.

No one did.

She left.

BTDT.

I went upstairs to bed. I don't search for runaways, they all know that. Save the drama effort, it's wasted on me.

We live down a long, dark, dirt road. It's scary out there...

She came home an hour later and went to bed.

She quietly went to school this morning without a word.
We'll deal with this later though and she knows it.