I've got a pretty big family. There's mother, father, grandmother and grandfather, little Kelly, Stacie, Skipper, and Krissy, and the older kids are me and Shelly. We have a horse named Dancer, a hound named Beauty, and a cat we call Fluff. I'm the oldest of the kids, I've been around a while. We have a little car but never go anywhere. I feel like we just go in circles and never end up anywhere new. I am always neglected since I am a teenager and therefore not as fun as the little ones. Maybe I'm not fun, but it's because I want more than to stay in my room trying on clothes and doing my hair. Mother worries I won't ever find someone to marry, father worries about work and the car, grandmother reads to the kids and knits, and grandfather reads the newspaper and watches TV, forever on the same channel. Someone tried to change the channel once and almost broke the TV. Father says it wasn't him and got very mad at us all. When the light shines through the windows everyone is happy and busy. But when it gets dark no one talks. The house is still and eerily silent. I've thought about leaving the confines of my room many times in the dark. But I've never been able to get up and actually do it. I'm sick of this life. Nothing is expected of me, I have no sense of accomplishment, no ambition, no reason for being here. I don't tell my family my thoughts for they would only smile and go on with their busy schedule. They dislike confrontation and refuse to acknowledge that anything might be wrong. There are never any problems here. Everything is perfect, always perfect. Perfect family, perfect house, perfect life. No one can leave. Nothing is wrong. Everything is what it should be. Everything is happy. Everything is plastic.
