Home is Where the Heart Is

"Home is where the heart is but what a shame, cause everyone's heart doesn't beat the same." 

-Billie Joe Armstrong (of Green Day's, "Jesus of Suburbia")

 

Home.

 

Many love to classify it as a chamber from the dangers of the public and outside, many consider it their own shelter. But me? It's a damn purgatory that I wish to escape once I turn 18. A seemingly sweet Countryside, Peach Shaded and spacey home on the outside, demons and fiery he'll abound in the inside. Or, in the world where I imagined it.

 

Why? My mom is an abusive sadist, my little sister a little selfish parasite, my dad absent and in prison, my older brother? He died..

I don't like talking about it, but he overdosed on his medication. He was my role model, the twinkle in my teary eye, the best brother you could ever imagine! Oh Anthony..God loves you (this was rare, since I consider myself an Agnostic Atheist.). The day he died, was the day the world stop turning..

 

"LINDY!! GET DOWN HERE AND GIVE ME A DAMN GOOD REASON WHY YOUR SISTER IS TELLING ME THIS!!"

 

Oh dear, my mother. Well, wasn't this a pleasant way to wake up on a fine, now mundane Tuesday morning? To add the cherry to the fudge sundae supreme, on a school day? Ugh.

"LINDY!!"

"MOM..!" I began to draw in a quick breath. Now..you can't argue back at her, that just feeds the famished and furious lion.

"..I'm coming. Please, PLEASE give me a few more minutes? I have to take my vitamins, put clothes on and I hav-"

"I DON'T CARE, GET DOWN HERE!!" she hissed back. From two stories down, I wonder how her hollers echo that loudly! And she is like, 38 and has not had a vocal chord issue..

 

Anyway, I slumped downstairs in my pink leopard print panties and Nirvana shirt. Lovely huh? Well, I has no time to take my sweet stroll down to the kitchen, because my mom was already scanning through the first level for me. Well, she finally spotted me and led me to the kitchen and dining room. There, I met with my little sister Amelia (she is 7 by the way), furious mother, and her dogmatic boyfriend (I forgot to mention him. He's alright.) enjoying a coffee cup and reading the newspaper.

 

"Now", my mom inhaled. "Where on EARTH is her Tamagotchi game?"

A little game device? She woke me up over that? What a lie. Ugh, well welcome to the Ryderson family.

 

Giving a disgusted glare, I barked back, "That's just one thing mom. There are millions of children who are desperate for the finer things in life. You know, they aren't spoiled unappreciative brats like Amelia is. Okay? And I don't see how one damn device or toy, or a THING, is so special to her. Or you, at the most, since she is latch to your breast. Why don't YOU, Molly, open YOUR eyes and wipe out the gunk to realize what this household has become?! Damn, its people like you who piss me off. ".

 

I was used to 7am arguments, so I snatched a bagel from the counter, proceeded to brush my hair and teeth, get dressed and clothed, then head off to my high school.

 

It was nice to put on my makeup and clip in my extension wefts, so I finally felt pretty. Pretty. The word my mom never threw at me. That's what I longed for, and a complete life.