Short Stories/Poems

What I Should've Said pt. 1

( You ever have those situations where later on you think of things you could've or should've said? Me too. But in my world, we are reminded everyday of all the things we left unsaid. Whenever we think to ourselves"Awe man, I should've said that!" The words are then tattooed onto our bodies by force. And we can not remove them. Some say it's a curse, others say it's a blessing. I say it's unfair. I don't want to be reminded every day of all the things I keep to myself. But, oh well...we all have to live with it. )

"Max! Dinner is ready!" My mother calls from the kitchen. She just got done yelling at my father. I don't know what happened this time, but he left. Again. He always leaves when there is a crisis. He left when I got hurt by people at school. He left when my mom lost her job. He left when I.....never mind. I look into my mirror, I lift my shirt and see the word "stop" on my right side. I feel a sharp ache in my throat, and my eyes water.
I walk into the kitchen, broken plates are scattered on the floor. "Mom? Are you okay?" I try to be cautious around my mother after a fight. I know she is upset. I look into the living room, and a picture from their wedding is broken on the floor, along with one of my baby pictures. My heart clenches, I know I am a mistake to my dad. He didn't want me. He didn't want any of this. He wanted to run away when I was born, but my mom made him stay. She can't take care of me by herself. She has bipolar disorder, and can't quite handle bad situations. But at least she doesn't run away whenever there is a hint of something bad.
"I am okay, but your father may not come home for a while." I look down at the food in front of me, and feel my lip quiver. "Is he mad at me?" I just came out to my mother, and she promised to tell my dad, I couldn't do it. Not to his face. "No honey, he is just mad in general...he'll understand eventually." She cups my cheeks in her hands. I see tear stains on her face, and red finger prints on her shoulders. "Did he hurt you?" My mom stays silent, and turns to the broken coffee machine. For the rest of dinner, we are silent. The messy house creeks as the wind dances outside. If only I could dance with them.
The only other person who knows about me being Bi is my friend Riley, she's okay with it. I knew she would be, but it was still so hard for me to say two words. Everyone probably knows I'm defiantly not straight. The girl who wears "guy pants" and baggy shirts. I'm sure as hell no ones dream girl, but a lot of people hate me for some reason. I've been bullied most of my life, and Riley was the best thing that could've happened to me. On my 16th birthday, she wrote me a long letter about how I was the best thing in her life. I hope she knows that the feeling is mutual.