"Foods ready!", shouted my mom from the kitchen. I leapt down the stairs in a single bound, creating a tornado of swirling papers and small objects to go flying about as I fell lifelessly to the bottom of the stairs. My mom walked in ,and as I was expecting a lecture she just shook her head as if she was expecting the disaster she seen before her. I jumped up with a sudden burst of energy, and raced to pick up the mess I created. I rushed into the kitchen quickly shoved pizza onto my plate and bolted back to my room.
My room. My safe haven from the rest of the world, my secluded area away from everyone , and everything. My room was where I spent most of my time. My room is the one place where the troubles of the world are lifted from my shoulders and scattered about to the rest of the people, where school can no longer harm me, and the words of children could no longer bother me. My room is the only place I feel safe and feel less hatred for the world.
"Hello?!", my mom yelled angrily, scattering my thoughts about like rain in a hurricane. "What!", I shouted back from the top of the stairs. "Come down here", she hollered back.
Why does she do this. She always brings me down and asks the same question every single time. Why don't you spend time with me and your father? I answer the same way everytime, because he is not my father, not will he ever be.
Tyler is a poor excuse for a grown man. He is a no good lazy drunk. Who does nothing but lay around all day. Tyler is a nuisance and a poor husband for my mother. My mother is a hardworking, beautiful individual, who would be better off on her own. She was dependent upon her self for years. She does not need Tyler making things more difficult that they already are.
"IF YOU DONT ANSWER ME!", shouted my mother. "What mom", I calmly responded, in attempts to calm her down so this conversation didn't end with me leaving again. "Will you come eat with me and your father? Please , for me?", she pleaded. "He is not my father , not shall he ever be. He is a terrible individual and you need to dump him mom", I responded. "He is your father , and don't talk about him like that. He just needs time to get back on his feet". "How long have you been saying that for mom? All he does is lay on the couch all day, he isn't even trying. He is the lowest kind of bottom feeder mom-". "Go to your room. You don't deserve his love-" "No mom I don't want it! Just Fucking leave him". "No you Fucking leave".
Great, I thought to my self. You've done it once again you've managed to find your yourself far away from your safe haven. Why do I continue to do this to myself?
