Different colored minds

Breakfast

PAMELA POV

My hand slams down on the alarm. The ceiling fan is in a different spot. Where am I? Am I still in the United States? What happened? I sit up in bed and take a deep breath. Where am I? My eyes look around the room searching for something that tells me where on God's green planet I am.

Oh yeah.

I'm in the United States, which only leaves where I am in the states.

It's always odd being in a place after being somewhere else. There's always that second before I get up, and I have to see all of the places I've been. All of the beds I've woken up in before. And I'm afraid to forget them. I never have a home. these fading memories of beds I've awoken in are the closest to what I'll ever have on earth to a home. If I forget one of those beds. One of those mornings filled with cecedas and birds and jungle trees I'll lose those places forever. They don't look like that now. They don't feel like that now. They never will again. And so if I lose that memory. Those places are gone, those moments in time I had with people will be missing. They will be lost. Forever. Forgotten.
I stand up, open the door and shuffle down the stairs. I need out of my head. At the counter section next to the kitchen sits my brother. I keep my eyes down as I step quietly towards the kitchen. This is not going to get me out of my head. I have to make it out without seeming off. Now I have to be triggered and covering it up at the same time. Although it's hell to spend time alone. This won't be much better. My brother is not happy today. I can see it on his face.

In the closet there's a tall box of Cheerios. I pull it off of the shelf and bring it towards the counter.
"You're so loud. Can't you just be quiet." He starts. My hand clenches on the sides of the cereal box. I gulp and move towards the closet with bowls. I don't want to be alone.
Dear lord please give me patience. Help me not get mad. Help me be patient with him. I need help.
I pull one of the bowls out and bring it towards the counter. I pour the Cheerios out into the bowl, trying to be quiet. I open the refrigerator and reach in, producing the milk with my right hand. I pull it out and bring it towards the counter as well. My heart is throbbing in my chest. I want to get out of my head. I can't keep the memories at bay. I can't keep the suicidal thoughts at bay. It feels like I can't do anything right. Especially today.
Soon the milk is sloshing into the bowl and I bring it to the counter next to my brother. He rolls his eyes.
"You eat so loud, you should eat in the other room," I shove a mouthful of cereal in my mouth and clench my fist under the table. There's a lump lodged in my throat. Would he care if I was gone? Would he care if I offed myself? I know my mom and dad say they love me. I know he says he does too, but if they loved me wouldn't they want to spend time with me. Wouldn't they want to say nice things to eachother. I just don't want to eat alone. I just want to spend time with my brother. I just want to be a family.

The cold lump expands in my throat.

No.

I won't go to the other room.

"Eat in the other room," he says louder his silver wear slapping on the counter top. I flinch and take another bight.
"Jeez. Fine. You're so disgusting when you eat, I can hear you and see all of the pieces in your mouth. It's annoying," and then he stands up, picks up his bowl and stomps to the other room. I let go of the breath I've been holding.

Now I feel guilty.

I didn't want him to have to sit somewhere else. But no matter how hard I try I can't chew quietly enough for him to stay. And I don't want to eat at the table every day alone. I just... I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix it. I don't even know if there's a way to fix this. I just want a brother. I just want to spend time with my brother. I just want someone. I just want someone to care. And I talk to god about it. I beg him for a best friend. Someone that wants to be my friend and take care of me. Someone that wants to be there for me through thick and thin. I beg god for it all of the time.

Instead of giving me friends I'm told all of the things I'm doing wrong. I get told I will never have friends. I am a freak. I will always be a freak. A freak who is all alone because god doesn't want to give me friends.

I have to be ready by now. He can trust me with friends now. I can take it. I figure a decade should be long enough to prove that I mean it. That I need someone. That I'm lonely. That I'm all alone. That I'm tired. That I hate me too and I wake up every morning not knowing where I am. I want to stop hurting over places I can never get to again. I want to not be hurt by all of the words people stack against me but I feel every one. I've always felt every one.

My brother says it's because I'm too sensitive and I need to be stronger. He doesn't understand that I don't have a choice.

I hate myself too.

I barely have the energy to get out of bed.

So why can't they all just let me live?

I know I suck.

But can't I just live any way?

Don't I deserve a chance?