As I sat in my room trying to listen to music, I could hear my parents arguing in the background.
“Damn it” , I muttered as I sat up in my bed. Really, why don’t they just get a divorce already?
Sometimes I seriously wonder if I am going to have to be a witness in a murder by the way they go at it sometimes. Whoever said that people should stay together for the “children” should come and live at my house. In my case the “child” wants their parents to put a cork in it already.
When you are 16 and already 87% of words that comes out of your parents mouths belongs in a rated R movie, I think it is time to move on.
But every time I open my mouth all their anger gets directed at me so I just leave them alone now. It is better for me this way.
Muttering to myself I walk over to my stereo and turn up the volume. Now the screams from downstairs are muted by the sound.
“Thank God” ,
I say to myself as I lay back down on my bed.
After about an hour I hear my front door slamming shut. Kneeling on my bed as I look out the window I can see my dad getting into his car and driving away. I wait a little longer to see if he will come back before I go downstairs.
Sure enough, when my foot hit’s the last step I can hear my mother crying.
“Oh, great!” I think to myself, “here we go again”.
For just a second I hope I can sneak back up into by bedroom before I am noticed, fat chance.
“ I hate your father!” I hear from behind me. I look over and I can see my mother, tears and snot covering her face.
Very attractive, I think to myself trying to get back upstairs to no avail.
“He is just soooooooo” …
She starts to say but ends up bursting into tears once again. Any normal child would feel sorry for their mother. But there is only so much pity you can have for someone. If you pity someone to much, sooner or latter it will grow to contempt. And that seems to be the only feeling I have for my parents. I know it is not normal, but most of the time I find myself boarding on hatred towards them. And sometimes I hate myself for that.
Gathering all of the strength I have not to run away, I go and sit beside my mother on the couch.
“What should I do?” She asked looking up at me, a new tear falling from her face.
“ Why are you asking your 16 year old child what you should do? You are the parent, you should be telling ME what to do, not the other way around”.
I think this, but I do not say it. It is better for me to keep these thoughts to myself. I would never say my feelings out loud, It is better for me to just keep it inside.
After consoling my mother for about an hour, I start to make my way back to my room. I can already feel a headache coming on.
After popping the blue pills I had hidden in my dresser, I lay back down on my bed as the eternal sleep invites me.
The end
