Use Me Like A Drug

Why Wash Hands That Are Clean?

  The sky, though still cloudy, had grown dark and by the time you were dropped off, it was late. You gave a fond farewell to the boys in the car who's voices had given up on them.

  When you stepped into the house, of course your parents were waiting on you. You'd have thought that maybe the worry would be evident on their faces, but rather, you only saw anger.

  You were glad you'd screamed out all of your frustrations because had you not done that, your parents rage would've been enough to make it all bubble over and explode.

  Instead of saying anything back, you stood through them scolding you and making you feel horrible. The things they said felt almost unspeakable. It made you question them as parents, but then again as the frustration began to build, you couldn't think of anything more than biting your tongue and not allowing your raspy voice to slip out. Heaven forbid they actually get an idea of what you did.

  When you were done being scolded you hid yourself in your room, finally allowing yourself to relax. You stopped biting your tongue and laid back, reflecting on the day.

  You felt much better. The weight had been lifted from your shoulders and whilst another weight was slowly building, it wasn't as heavy as before. You found yourself easily able to shoulder this burden. It was times like this that you resented your parents. You knew you shouldn't because they're your parents and they love you and all that cheesy bullshit that people say to justify toxic parenting, but rather than seeming like they cared for you, it only seemed as if they wished to burden you. It felt like their purpose in life was to make your life a living hell. Even thinking that made you feel like one of those angsty teenagers whose parents 'just don't get them'.

  That was the thing about how they parented. Rather than making you feel like someone they were taking care of, it felt like you were their burden. Rather than them caring for you, it felt like you had to go out of your way to please them, despite how impossible it really was. They made you feel like every single fundamental thing you got was a luxury that you should appreciate with every fibre of your being. You understood that to some extent you should be grateful for the things you consider common, and you were, but your parents had made it seem like those fundamental needs were your payments.

  You did chores a lot. You tried not to complain. Usually kids get allowances for these chores. You were told to feel grateful that you even got to eat. It was frustrating in a sense. You understand financial difficulties and whatnot, especially in your situation, but what you didn't understand was how they made you feel like you didn't deserve basic amenities.

  You laid back in your bed, closing your eyes. You didn't want to think about it anymore. Instead, you just allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, keeping your mind in a healthy place. Heaven knew what happened when you allowed your mind to stray.

  ~

When you'd woken up, the frustration had yet to simmer down. You still felt angry and there was nothing that would change that.

Part of you felt relieved to wake up to an empty house. It almost made you feel nervous. You didn't quite trust the new environment you'd been placed in, nor did you trust your parents ability to lock the door. Needless to say, you wasted a few minutes of your morning making sure no one had snuck in whilst you slept.

It was surprising of you to find that school had been your safe haven. When you stepped into the crumbling hallways, somehow, the gout in between the floor tiles made you feel comfortable. The small splinter you got in your finger as you pushed the door open made you feel more safe than your house ever did.

When you sat in your seat, the hoarseness of your throat had finally set in. Your throat felt more dry than it ever had, and you knew that had you tried to speak, no coherent sentences would come out. You'd used every ounce of your voice up on that mountain as if it were a finite resource. Something you could actually run out of.