Another Day.

“I find it kinda funny
I find it kinda sad
The dreams in which I’m dying
Are the best I’ve ever had.”

I can feel the tears press against the back of my eyes. I can hear the argument across the hall and into my mother’s room. IT is screaming at my mother. Berating her, and beating her down verbally. I can feel the twinge of pain in my chest, as the tears start to build up.

I want to press the headphones to my ears and make the whole world go away, but inside I’m afraid that she’ll do something to my mother, so I keep the music off. It’s fighting with my Mom, but I can feel her words rip into my heart, tearing and hurting me.

I suck in a breath as I hear skin hit skin, but then I realize Gina slapped her own hand, and I can breathe again, but just barely. It’s barely a whisper.

A voice in the back of my head tells me it’s my entire fault. If I wasn’t here, it would be so much better. Mama would go back to being friends with IT. It wouldn’t have to worry about me anymore. I would go to heaven.

I get rid of the thought, as quickly as it comes.

I take my boyfriends advice, and think only about him. But it’s hard to block out the voice of IT telling my mother that me and my brother are idiots. Are worthless. I can feel a wound rip open somewhere inside of me. I block it out, like so many other wounds before.

I wipe away the tears that started to fall down my face. I feel my chin quiver and I turn on Pink’s Family Portrait. It hits dead on.

IT exits my Mom’s room, and I quickly turn off the music, afraid that she will hear it and come in here and hit me, like she’s done before.

I clutch my knees and suck in my breath, back and forth as the dog comes upstairs, turning their attention away from them, and their anger is evaporated for a second, before IT remembers why she’s there and continues cutting down my mother, who I can hear sobbing in the other room.

I close my eyes and block it out. Try to. It hurts. My heart hurts. I block out the voices, block out the pain. I know more will come. Its only a matter of time.

It hurts.

Mood: Upset.
Quote of the day: “Those who say children are carefree, have forgotten their own childhood."
Song of the day: "Mad World by Gary Jules"