Day #2

With every new angry word I can feel myself getting farther and farther away from the person I want to be. I wanted to be a person people could be proud of, a person someone would want to be with, date, get married to. I wanted to be a person of worth. But, the ire of whatever it was I was so disturbed about prevents me from becoming that. It sits in my chest like a molten stone, ready to set fire to my soul and the rest of me at any moment, like a chemical bomb. I can feel it's poison coursing through my veins and arteries like slow moving magma of the worst kind of sludge. Nothing good can come from something like this, someone like this. No matter what I do it never feels good. It always feels bad and, leaves a taste in my mouth like melted mercury. In the middle of the worst of it I never feel I'm in control. I always feel like my brain has been taken over by some tiny, yet powerful, micro organism that seems to be able to run my mouth as if it were it's own, getting me into more and more, considerable trouble at will. I long for a magic pill or button that could help me to take over my body when I need it the most. But, apparently, we're not there yet... This is where I am now, at home, in my room stewing over having told my parents to go and 'FUCK OFF!". The words weren't even the words I wanted to say but, at the last minute they came flying out of my mouth as if a missile were after them. Now, I'm afraid to even leave my room. What could I say to them?! How could I look them in the eyes ever again?! The truth is, I love my parents but sometimes I wonder if they even care for me. They do stupid things like punish me for the most mundane things (like nobody ever set fire to the car before? Dad did that last weekend, I don't see him being banned from watching Sports Center!), make me do things that embarras me (really?! I have to wear that- out in public?! My friends go there!), take away the one thing I cherish the most in all the world (I think, if it came down to it, if our house were in any kind of danger I would run back inside and save my books rather my parents. Cold, I know, but those books saved and continue to save my life). Sometimes I don't think my family knows me. If they did they wouldn't try to hurt me by making me miserable. At my worst I could almost see them downstairs at the dinner table, spitefully laughing their heads off about how hurt or upset I am. The bastards! I don't know how to rectify this. I don't know where to begin... Wait a minute, why do I have to be the one to say i'm sorry?! Maybe they caused this, maybe they asked for this?! ...Yeah, I'm not buying it either... All pride and humiliation aside, I made a mess of things, this is my fault and I have to fix it. I need to go down there, when I'm ready, and say I'm sorry and take my punishment like an adult, (no matter how far away yet that pipe dream seems). But, not yet... I still need to stew some more, Petty, I know, but, good or bad, I have some things I need to think about. Like where am I going to live, cause if this goes belly up I sure as Hell can't stay here. I tried calling my aunt but she only took their side. She always takes their side. It's like she's trying to curry favor with them or something, which is so incredibly ridiculous! What is she worried about- she's already family for Godsake! What more does she want, how much more deeper in this family does she want or need to be?!! It's amazing, I'm the one who needs allies and for what ever reason I can't seem to find any here. Okay, let's go. After closing my computer I push myself away from my desk and head for the door. As I turn the knob and walk into the hallway I can her the T.V downstairs. Sports Center is on and from the noise dad's making it sounds like his team just scored. Mom mustn't be too far from him. She loves sports just as much as he does, they met at a hockey game, after all. The walk downstairs takes longer than I thought. I blame it on the shag carpet on the staircase. it must be tripping me up, slowing me down somehow... Finally, living room. "Hey," I say in what must be the smallest voice I've ever heard come out of my mouth. My dad turns around with a smile at first the when he sees it's me, his eyes look like they suddenly remember why they were angry at me in the first place and the smile disappears. I hear some shuffling of feet and turn my head to find my mother standing behind me wiping her hands on a dish towel, looking no happier to see me. I figure the best way to do this is just to say it so, as quickly as possible, I say, "Look, I'm real sorry I said what I did. I know I shouldn't have (even though, deep down I know I was more than justified) and... I won't let it happen again." My parents looked at each other in this real weird way then my dad said, "Well, coming from you that's damn near a soliloquy." I could hear my mom chuckle under her breath behind me. "You're not going to that party this weekend," my dad continues. "You're grounded for the next three weeks, that means no hanging out with friends, no girlfriend, after school you come straight home and go straight to your room, and definitely no cell phones, or internet unless for homework. Now, go back to your room." And, with that, he turns back to his game and my mother shuffles back to her dishes. 'Christ! ...' I thought. I suppose it could have been worse but, damn!!! On my way back to my room my legs dragged up the stairs like two lead pipes across a metal bridge and all I could think of the entire way up was 'I wonder if there's any room at Guantanamo?