My pulse is pounding. Not fast, just steady - throb, throb - in my chest and in my temples. I can feel it against the pillow I have leaning against my head to block out the streetlight coming through the window.

I'm thinking about the trip. I didn't go on the trip. I should have gone on the trip, but I couldn't. I couldn't go on the trip. I couldn't accept the circumstances.

I bailed at the last minute. I left my brother's house last night after telling myself I just wouldn't go. It relieved me greatly when I made the decision. I was wound up tight inside and it was making me dark and sick. I couldn't go. I took my bags out to the car and I softly said I was going home and I left. I texted one brother and said I wasn't going. I texted another and said I would watch his dogs while he was gone.

His wife almost got me to reconsider. She was im-ing me over the phone, trying to work with me. But I kept picturing tense situations from years past and I couldn't feel good about going.

She texted in the morning "any change of heart?" and for a moment, I had. I felt lighter than the night before; freer. Then I thought about being the car with him; being stuck in the house with him and I said no again. When she said "sorry," that's what hurt the most. Because she was sympathetic. Because part of me did want to go. Because I wanted to find a way but I couldn't.

I should have tried harder. Receiving their texts today and thinking about some of the good things that happen there, I wished I would have gone. I thought of other solutions I could have tried, had I thought about them. But things were tied together: if I drove myself, I would be up there. If I were up there, then I could say yes to my friend who wanted me to watch his dogs for him. But then I couldn't drive home in time, which meant no to him, even though I was there and had said I was strongly considering it (and I would have half preferred it). It seemed like it would be a slap in the face. I couldn't do it.

Today I thought of other cars I might have taken. My friend Matt's. There's no guarantee he would have said yes - in fact, he might need it this week for work (he went to his parents but I don't know for how long). And what about renting a car? What if I rented it for only three days? Or four days? How much would that be? $300? Could I cover that? I know I could pay it back to someone.

But I needed to be free. I needed not to be beholden. Because if I made someone mad or they made me mad, I wanted to be able to leave - at any time, by my own volition. I didn't want to be trapped in anyone else's system where they could make me feel bad and I would be stuck there. I wanted to be able to leave. And I couldn't do that.

Now I've made another trap for myself. I accepted the task of taking care of my brother's dogs. The problem with that is it ties me to a location. I had been thinking that maybe I would go up to PA to stay with my brother again. I just came home after staying with him for a month and I had an ok time. He has three kids and kids are my thing. There was always someone around to talk to or interact with. I was part of something for a little while. Here, I'm part of nothing.

For some reason I have an odd relationship with choice. I couldn't go to New England with my family because I didn't have enough choice. On the other hand, I like TV because I can pick from pre-arranged choices. Here at my brother's house, there is no TV, only the computer. So everything is choice - you choose what videos to watch, either online or on DVD. Everything is a bit sterile.

On the other hand, there's plenty of choice - he's got bunches of DVDs, tons of books and magazines, newspapers and much more. I could read for days. But for some reason I feel blocked in this house. I feel trapped here. There is room and luxury and I can't stand it when I'm alone here. I feel sick and used up.

The person I talk to and share most with in the world is out of the country. My sister, who is perhaps second, is in New England and I can't share with her because I don't want her to think about me, I want her to enjoy herself. This makes me realize how small my group of friends is. I don't really have anyone else to call and no one I would really talk to. I came down here to write this because I thought of my friend in California, the one I share blog access with. I thought about calling her - or the number I have that was once hers; I thought about writing on our shared blog; then I decided to write here.

I feel like I have to tell my brother; that the only way this will be resolved is for me to tell him and be angry with him. Only I don't want to do that. I just want to cut him out of my life and go somewhere else and be part of some other family. I want to move away and never have to talk to him again. If I could build something on my own, I would. I would move far away and build something new of my own that didn't involve anyone here. But I can't do that. I'm a piece of shit. I can't make anything real. Which is why I am where I am.

I don't want to be positive right now but here it is: I need to make a strategy for this week. I have to try to survive it and perhaps even thrive. I need to find people to meet with and be around a talk to in order to not completely collapse in on myself. I thought of David, of Kevin and his wife, of Angela, my sister's friend, of Christina, my friend, of Matt's family (provided they're back from NY). That's five days. My sister has another friend (that I talk to). I have another friend I haven't talked to in a year or so. I have relatives - aunts and a cousin with two kids who like to beat on me. I could try. I could make a list and try. That's the best I can do.