need to cool down so i'm going to vent to the blog for sec. though i may regret it.
my mom got all pissy because her camera broke and decided to go into that mood where she screamed at us as if she wasn't right in our ears. she called us names, stuff i don't wanna say.
i went to my room after an unsuccessful attempt at scriptures and prayers and turned up my grooveshark's volume really loud and shoved the earbuds deep into my ears, trying my best to drown myself int he music blasting into every cell of my brain. i started working on this massive poster i'm doing for the art show. it's an abstract sketching of all the crazy stuff in my head. once colored, it'd win me a nice prize. with the music washing through my head, and the colors coming from my fingers, i felt somewhat calmer.
didn't last.
mom swung open my door and it hit the adjacent wall with a bang and she screamed at me, and i closed my eyes trying to make the harsh sound of her yelling roll off my skin instead of cutting into it. i heard her words 'clean the kitchen" inside the loudness. i tore myself from the music, and the difference was so harsh wanted to cry. but i decided to keep a poker face because crying would make mom feel guilty, and make her scream more. and being angry would make her excited to accept my challenge and show how angry SHE could be in return.
i went down the stairs and started doing the dishes left over from her attempt at making dinner. i heard her screaming upstairs at my siblings, my blood boiled. OK. You can scream at ME all you want, i probably deserve it, i HAVE been happier than usual, and that probably pissed her off. but DON'T YOU DARE take this out on my siblings. they're too young to even go down the street without observation, you think they deserve to get that kind of verbal abuse form the only parent they have around?
EFF NO!
but i didn't scream at her to back off because she might hurt them or some downstairs and get me. or worse, destroy my computer. besides, she didn't usually lay hands on us. she likes to scream though. maybe she'd get tired and retreat to her room like she usually did. but i still bit my lip and grumbled some of the things i wanted to shout up to her. the pound in my head returning at the thought of my siblings going to be with teary eyes. i wished i could sneak them out of the house to a save haven somewhere else.
i was almost done with the dishes, scraping the grease off of a pan when i saw my mom's furious countenance stomp into view. her long black hair swayed as she moved towards me, her teeth bared like an animal. her eyes, were wide and crazed. She bore her teeth while she spit the words, "DID YOU CLEAN THE LITTER BOX LIKE I ASKED YOU TO?!"
i didn't have time to brace myself.
this time, the words cut into my chest like knives. she must have told me to do the box but i didn't hear her over the music and through her loudness.
my heart sunk. i was never going to get any homework or my shower or my art project done if she kept giving me chores to do this late at night.
the last thing wanted to do was be snobby, so in a calm voice i said, "well, i'm cleaning the kitchen right now-" with that she spun on her heel and i heard her ascend the stairs. THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP
i cringed, feeling the harshness in the air she left behind.
you know how sometimes you can tell when the spirit has totally and completely left your house? yeah. that was this.
"I'M PUTTING IT ON YOUR BED, ANNABELLE! I'M PUTTING IT ON YOUR BED!!"
i turned off the hissing water of the sink, trying to comprehend. what? putting...
my throat closed.
i left the pan in the sink and ran upstairs. maybe she wouldn't do it!
but it was too late. i got to my room and saw the catbox sitting atop my art project. A cry escaped my throat and i lifted the box off of my bed and carried it back into the bathroom. i ran back to my room and picked up my project. it had huge unsightly yellow stains all over it.
i wanted to throw up, i crumpled to the ground holding the poster, looking at it. i started crying.
which of course was another mistake made by the incredibly STUPID annabelle, because my mom came to my cries like a shark come to blood. She screamed at me to keep crying. she said if i didn't clean the box RIGHT NOW she would dump it all over my bed. I nodded, trying to stop my ridiculous sobbing and went to the bathroom and took the box down to the trash and dumped it out and refileld it with new litter.
i returned to the kitchen and continued cleaning, now crying but being quiet about it because my brother was int eh other room vacuuming and i didn't want to scare him.
i felt selfish for crying over my art project, but i couldn't believe she would do something like that. something i worked hard on. what else was she willing to do to hurt us?
millions of the usual thoughts raced through my head.
okay. i need to go upstairs and put on my shoes. i need to pack and go to kaleb's house. he'll let me crash there for the night. i can bring money and call a cab and be out of here by sunrise.
my tears stopped and my eyes burned as i packed my supplies.
but i realized i couldn't leave. if i did, my siblings would be alone. i couldn't do that to them. and i'd have to return sometime, i guess. and when i did, she'd beat the living hell out of me. one way or another.
i didn't put my shoes on or even ask kaleb if he could open his window so i could go over there.
instead i crumpled my art project up, and curled up on my bed.
the more i thought about it, the mo re i realized that kaleb probably wouldn't have let me crash at his place at all. we're hardly friends anymore. that thought sent a wave of pain over me. i had nowhere to go.
i wish jeremy wasnt at work, so i could tell him this. i wish he didnt live in chandler so i could be held after things like this.
but im not going to be, im lucky that i have someone far away, at least there's someone. right?...
and now here i am, writing this and feeling heavier with every word.
so now you're up to date.
frekkn a.
my mom got all pissy because her camera broke and decided to go into that mood where she screamed at us as if she wasn't right in our ears. she called us names, stuff i don't wanna say.
i went to my room after an unsuccessful attempt at scriptures and prayers and turned up my grooveshark's volume really loud and shoved the earbuds deep into my ears, trying my best to drown myself int he music blasting into every cell of my brain. i started working on this massive poster i'm doing for the art show. it's an abstract sketching of all the crazy stuff in my head. once colored, it'd win me a nice prize. with the music washing through my head, and the colors coming from my fingers, i felt somewhat calmer.
didn't last.
mom swung open my door and it hit the adjacent wall with a bang and she screamed at me, and i closed my eyes trying to make the harsh sound of her yelling roll off my skin instead of cutting into it. i heard her words 'clean the kitchen" inside the loudness. i tore myself from the music, and the difference was so harsh wanted to cry. but i decided to keep a poker face because crying would make mom feel guilty, and make her scream more. and being angry would make her excited to accept my challenge and show how angry SHE could be in return.
i went down the stairs and started doing the dishes left over from her attempt at making dinner. i heard her screaming upstairs at my siblings, my blood boiled. OK. You can scream at ME all you want, i probably deserve it, i HAVE been happier than usual, and that probably pissed her off. but DON'T YOU DARE take this out on my siblings. they're too young to even go down the street without observation, you think they deserve to get that kind of verbal abuse form the only parent they have around?
EFF NO!
but i didn't scream at her to back off because she might hurt them or some downstairs and get me. or worse, destroy my computer. besides, she didn't usually lay hands on us. she likes to scream though. maybe she'd get tired and retreat to her room like she usually did. but i still bit my lip and grumbled some of the things i wanted to shout up to her. the pound in my head returning at the thought of my siblings going to be with teary eyes. i wished i could sneak them out of the house to a save haven somewhere else.
i was almost done with the dishes, scraping the grease off of a pan when i saw my mom's furious countenance stomp into view. her long black hair swayed as she moved towards me, her teeth bared like an animal. her eyes, were wide and crazed. She bore her teeth while she spit the words, "DID YOU CLEAN THE LITTER BOX LIKE I ASKED YOU TO?!"
i didn't have time to brace myself.
this time, the words cut into my chest like knives. she must have told me to do the box but i didn't hear her over the music and through her loudness.
my heart sunk. i was never going to get any homework or my shower or my art project done if she kept giving me chores to do this late at night.
the last thing wanted to do was be snobby, so in a calm voice i said, "well, i'm cleaning the kitchen right now-" with that she spun on her heel and i heard her ascend the stairs. THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP
i cringed, feeling the harshness in the air she left behind.
you know how sometimes you can tell when the spirit has totally and completely left your house? yeah. that was this.
"I'M PUTTING IT ON YOUR BED, ANNABELLE! I'M PUTTING IT ON YOUR BED!!"
i turned off the hissing water of the sink, trying to comprehend. what? putting...
my throat closed.
i left the pan in the sink and ran upstairs. maybe she wouldn't do it!
but it was too late. i got to my room and saw the catbox sitting atop my art project. A cry escaped my throat and i lifted the box off of my bed and carried it back into the bathroom. i ran back to my room and picked up my project. it had huge unsightly yellow stains all over it.
i wanted to throw up, i crumpled to the ground holding the poster, looking at it. i started crying.
which of course was another mistake made by the incredibly STUPID annabelle, because my mom came to my cries like a shark come to blood. She screamed at me to keep crying. she said if i didn't clean the box RIGHT NOW she would dump it all over my bed. I nodded, trying to stop my ridiculous sobbing and went to the bathroom and took the box down to the trash and dumped it out and refileld it with new litter.
i returned to the kitchen and continued cleaning, now crying but being quiet about it because my brother was int eh other room vacuuming and i didn't want to scare him.
i felt selfish for crying over my art project, but i couldn't believe she would do something like that. something i worked hard on. what else was she willing to do to hurt us?
millions of the usual thoughts raced through my head.
okay. i need to go upstairs and put on my shoes. i need to pack and go to kaleb's house. he'll let me crash there for the night. i can bring money and call a cab and be out of here by sunrise.
my tears stopped and my eyes burned as i packed my supplies.
but i realized i couldn't leave. if i did, my siblings would be alone. i couldn't do that to them. and i'd have to return sometime, i guess. and when i did, she'd beat the living hell out of me. one way or another.
i didn't put my shoes on or even ask kaleb if he could open his window so i could go over there.
instead i crumpled my art project up, and curled up on my bed.
the more i thought about it, the mo re i realized that kaleb probably wouldn't have let me crash at his place at all. we're hardly friends anymore. that thought sent a wave of pain over me. i had nowhere to go.
i wish jeremy wasnt at work, so i could tell him this. i wish he didnt live in chandler so i could be held after things like this.
but im not going to be, im lucky that i have someone far away, at least there's someone. right?...
and now here i am, writing this and feeling heavier with every word.
so now you're up to date.
frekkn a.
oh annabelle...My house is always open. Always. If I need to I'll keep my window open this week.
ReplyDeleteSo here's what we do. We pack up your siblings, and whomever else wants to come along, and then we start walking. Just walking away. We'll go live somewhere nice in an old abandoned house and call it good. We'll live like the Boxcar children.