Jayden
My head really fucking hurts. And it doesn't help that Angela just started bitching at me about cleaning out the cats' litter boxes. Right when I heard her voice, I walked up the stairs and to my room, slamming my door.
I grab my pack of cigarettes and take one out, grabbing my lighter and walking over to the window, lighting it up and taking a seat right by it.
"Jayden!" Her voice is getting closer and closer and I hear her footsteps as they make their way down the hall to my room. "Open the damn door!"
I take a drag from my cigarette, trying my best to tune her out. But she starts knocking on the door.
"See, this is why I think you won't get far in life," she says, her voice booming like thunder. I close my eyes. "You're too lazy to do a goddamn thing."
Ha. Funny thing is, I changed the cat litter earlier today. And she hasn't even checked. She just wants something to bitch at me about.
"Open the door!"
Another drag from my cigarette.
She yells through the door for about another five minutes before angrily stomping back downstairs. I stay in the same position. When she's downstairs, I open my eyes.
Sometimes I like to think about Mom and where she is now. Even though I know nothing about her and I think she's a bitch for walking out on us, I wonder what life would be like if she never left. I like to think that she was really nice and liked to listen to classic rock, and that's the reason Dad fell for her. I like to think that she would've sung me to sleep and she would've had a sweet voice that could calm anyone down. I like to think that when school started, she would've packed me lunches and left a note. I keep the picture of her that Dad gave me in my dresser drawer and I only look at when I feel lost or hopeless. I don't know why.
It's weird because I hate her for what she did, but at the same time, I don't. I guess it's because I know that there's another side to the story that I don't know. I want to know, though.
When I'm done with my cigarette, I throw it out the window and watch as it lands in the grass. I close my window and grab my guitar before plopping down on my bed. I get my own and notepad and set it down in front of me.
Because music is my only real outlet, I turn it to when I frustrated or upset. It helps me open up. I'm such a closed off person that it sometimes annoy others. But I can't help it. It's how I've always been.
"I fight through to see tomorrow..." is the first thing that pops into my head after I sit in silence for while, thinking of what to write down. "Don't get tired, don't beg or borrow." I look over at my savings jar - all the money I've been saving from working at the mall. All for a car. I need a car. And if I don't get a car first, then an apartment. Because I need to move out of here.
I continue to write, thinking and waiting for the right words and phrases to pop into my head. I sometimes stop to strum on my guitar to try and figure out a melody to go with the words.
This goes on for another hour or two and then I give up trying to figure out the second verse. The chorus was the easiest to get, but the verses are harder. I sit my guitar back against my wall and fall back onto my bed.
The only shit thing about leaving home would be leaving Kendall behind. I don't think I'd like that. I'd have to take her with me. And also leaving Dani. Because when I move, I wanna move far out somewhere. I don't think school is my future, I just can't picture it there. But I can picture myself moving into my own place and getting a job and taking the bus because I used all my savings on an apartment so I need to start saving again.
