A soft knock...
Another,
Another,
I want it to stop, I haven't even slept yet.
" Phebe's, you need to get up " Why does she sound so soft despite what had happened last night. My bedroom door creaked open, dirty carpet crunched under her feet, my mother sits against my back. Why won't she give up?, " Are you really going to be this difficult?"
I can feel my throat crackling with dryness, difficult to swallow. My eyes itch from constant rubbing, swollen and puffy from stress and a bit of crying. I am under my blanket, curled into a ball of gross, with my three day worn pajamas on a typical Thursday morning. I say typical due to I have had to deal with the same shit every day for the past ten years, sound pretty typical to me. I don't want to get out of bed because I know the cycle will continue. I'll lose again because, I am a failure, I Truly think this will never end by my means.
"I will be up in a minute, please get out." I am blunt with her, I feel immense boiling anger in having her in my room. Why does she think it is okay to invade my space, after what she's put me through I should tell her to fuck off instead of give her a easy response like this. She looks somber like I just kicked her puppy or something, gets up and leaves.
My phones alarm finally rings, meaning only that my Mother came into my room a whole five minutes before I was supposed to even turn off my alarm. I sit up, overwhelming light from my ceiling fan burns my eyes Of course she turned it on . I groggily slip out of my bed onto the floor staring at the ceiling, trying to get the will to get ready for the day seems like the equivalent of ripping my hair out.
Managing to gain a sliver of hope, I pull my heavy body off my cold carpeted floor and get dressed. Socks and shoes, all apart of an equally balanced outfit for school. I grab everything else on my mental checklist as well, necessities for school; keys, phone, wallet, sketchbook backpack, whatever. Finally leaving the small safety net that is my room into a cold hallway that leads into a cold living room, toward a cold kitchen to see an even colder woman. As usual, my mother sits drinking her hot morning coffee at our bar top kitchen table, on her phone in her own world. I bet she wishes she wasn't here either, that she didn't have me as her child, well I will be able to leave this hell soon anyway. Good for her, she can deal with him herself.
" Finally up, I see you refuse to brush your hair again today, huh. Well your breakfast is in the microwave so eat." She gestures to the machine above the stove, ordering me to eat. As if she even had to tell me to eat, I can do that all on my own even I know the fridge is one of my only friends, " Phoebe, we need to talk about what happened last night with your Dad, I can not keep doing this with you every night, I have work."
"That man is not my Father, He is just married to you"
"Gabriel is the only man that has been in your life since you were six years old, he is the only Father you have, why can't you guys just get along" She looks at me tired, angry, sad. Does she know how he is when she's at work? I wonder if she does and just blames me because I'm the only person who actually shows my true emotions.
"Mom, we'll get along when either he or I am dead, more so if I am dead so his narcissist ass can have you all to himself"
"Phe-!"I walk out the front door and slam it before I can another word from her.
My car is quiet.
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My day has been average, school is average, school lunches are average it's always pizza. When will my luck change when will I get to be happy, with a side of fries? I notice my friend, Jackson, sitting on a bench at the other side of the crowded cafeteria with my heavy tray in my hand I continue to walk towards him. I vaguely smile not really feeling up to it to give him a real one. Jackson waves to me smiling huge, golden retriever energy spewing out of him like a freshly uncorked wine bottle. I've always envied his outlook which is the 'I don't give a shit' motif. He's very introverted despite his sweet personality being able to draw anyone who has a sense of humor to him. He's quite tall, standing about a foot ahead of me sturdy build, strong genes, with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. We've been friends for about 5 years now, he makes me happy and he's never made me feel weird about being me, probably because he's really weird too. we've had sleep overs too, I know how that sounds but Jackson is gay and as soon as my mom knew that she trusted him, that's the only thing I can say is a pro for my mom is that she trusts my judgement.
