I got up, dusted off my pants, put the pack away in my pocket and started walking home. Under the bridge I just got stares and a few offers as opposed to the scatter that took place beforehand. I preferred the scatter. Once out from under that hellhole I closed my eyes and breathed in the cool night air. It was really a beautiful night once I stopped letting my crappy emotions affect my own physical environment. The moisture on my face made it cool when the wind blew and my hair tickled my ears. The stars tickled my soul and the moon lit up the night more brightly than I had ever seen before. At least I knew God cared about me that night, but was that enough to stop the ensuing years of self torture? No.
I got home. The yelling had stopped, the T.V. was off and my mom was at the sink. She didn't say a word though I know that she heard me. I went to my room and found my brother at my desk. He asked me where I went, but he wasn't mad or interrogative, he was just wondering. I told him I just went for a walk and without another word he just got up and left. I sat on my bed dumbfounded, wondering why the hell my mom wasn't wondering where the hell I went, or why she wasn't out looking for me. Why hadn't my dad called asking me if I was ok, why wasn't my mom sitting beside me on my bed asking me if I was ok?
I feel like I'm being given half support here. Like only the left side of my life is being supported by my parents. They tell me not to do something, or they tell me to do something and then they don't tell me what to replace it with. They curse me for doing bad in school and can't find enough breath to tell me congratulations for anything. They tell me how to live my life and to make the tough decisions and then leave when the toughness of the choice surfaces in my life. I know God has not and will not forsaken me, but damn it, I'm lonely and I'm sad, and sitting in my room after having gone through what I went through alone. With no one that said they cared about me around. I couldn't help but feel betrayed. What the hell am I complaining about, though? I have my parents, I have everything that I need, although I would give it away to be able to control my own thoughts. I'm at Rock Bottom here. You have to understand that for me, it's a real place. I can feel it and I can smell it. It smells rotten and feels like the bottom of a worn out, rotting wooden boat. My soul sneezes uncontrollably when I'm in this place because it's allergic to the apathy that I have when I'm here. I hate being here. I'm looking for you, actively and when I find you, you'll see that I'm begging for you to come take me out.
As that night carried on my mom didn't speak a word to me. I don't suppose she knew that I was being torn apart over the matter. My mom would never let me go through that if she could control it. Too bad she didn't know that she could control it. As I laid there in my bed, alone with my thoughts, I tried oh so hard to forget that night and forget about the fucking pain I had been feeling for the past three hours. Your memories though aren't written in your mind like a pen or permanent marker, they are carved in with a knife. They never ever leave you, no matter what you do to make them go away.
I fell asleep thinking about Ashley and trying to cheer myself up thinking about band tomorrow when I would inevitably see her. I love band. Almost as much as I love Ashley.
I feel like I'm being given half support here. Like only the left side of my life is being supported by my parents. They tell me not to do something, or they tell me to do something and then they don't tell me what to replace it with. They curse me for doing bad in school and can't find enough breath to tell me congratulations for anything. They tell me how to live my life and to make the tough decisions and then leave when the toughness of the choice surfaces in my life. I know God has not and will not forsaken me, but damn it, I'm lonely and I'm sad, and sitting in my room after having gone through what I went through alone. With no one that said they cared about me around. I couldn't help but feel betrayed. What the hell am I complaining about, though? I have my parents, I have everything that I need, although I would give it away to be able to control my own thoughts. I'm at Rock Bottom here. You have to understand that for me, it's a real place. I can feel it and I can smell it. It smells rotten and feels like the bottom of a worn out, rotting wooden boat. My soul sneezes uncontrollably when I'm in this place because it's allergic to the apathy that I have when I'm here. I hate being here. I'm looking for you, actively and when I find you, you'll see that I'm begging for you to come take me out.
As that night carried on my mom didn't speak a word to me. I don't suppose she knew that I was being torn apart over the matter. My mom would never let me go through that if she could control it. Too bad she didn't know that she could control it. As I laid there in my bed, alone with my thoughts, I tried oh so hard to forget that night and forget about the fucking pain I had been feeling for the past three hours. Your memories though aren't written in your mind like a pen or permanent marker, they are carved in with a knife. They never ever leave you, no matter what you do to make them go away.
I fell asleep thinking about Ashley and trying to cheer myself up thinking about band tomorrow when I would inevitably see her. I love band. Almost as much as I love Ashley.
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