when you turn eighteen, you realize your parents barely talk to each other, let alone to you.
it's been so long since you're born and you're sick and tired of it. you've never particularly hated birthdays, but if you could you'd set your birth certificate on fire today.
you'd turn back time if it meant you parents would never have you.
this isnt a sort of self hatred. it's a sort of coming to terms with it. this is not the world for you. you close your eyes and find yourself dreaming again, you wake up and you find yourself trapped in that dream still. the black fog twists around your neck, cradles your wrist. it sings ballads in your ears you'll never be able to write.
your dad snaps a finger in front of you.
you look up.
im in a sticky place right now, he says. i cannot pay your college tuition if you attend a private university.
ok, you tell him. i'll find a way.
you never do. you cant. you're stuck in a dream.
