My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf..
I remember blogging some time ago in A Long Way Gone about the relationship between myself and my mother and how I thought it was improving.
Exactly a week ago I realized that I was wrong. To make a very long story short, I was called irresponsible, unintelligent and slutty for trying to help a friend. Very unlike myself, I broke down in the car with my friends. To help make me feel a little better, we all went out to eat, then my best friend Brandon spent the night with me, thinking it would ease the blow of the confrontation with my mother in the morning.
It didn't. She exploded. Irrationally. She threatened me with a pair of scissors, in front of Brandon. She told me she could "fucking kill me if she wanted to because I'm her child", in front of Brandon. I tossed a plastic bowl into the sink, she punched me for throwing her dishes.
About a week prior to that she made me quit my job after I refused to give her a hundred dollars gas money to be transported there, three days a week.
I feel kind of foolish for thinking that it would ever be anything different.
I wish there was a way I didn't have to be here.
The relationship between me and my grandmother is unexplainable. I sometimes make her eggs and toast in the morning. I bring her butter pecan ice cream and lemon pound cake when she asks for it. I try to look at her as a different person, as a stranger. I try to swallow my resentment. I smile. But inside I feel as though I'm betraying myself.
I wish there was a way I didn't have to be here.
-------------------------------------------------
But I guess this is the summer of the lasts. After this, it'll be over. After this, I'll be done.
Nothing for me to do, but have one last cry. For the very last time, stop living a lie.
I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down..
To my last cry.
I remember blogging some time ago in A Long Way Gone about the relationship between myself and my mother and how I thought it was improving.
Exactly a week ago I realized that I was wrong. To make a very long story short, I was called irresponsible, unintelligent and slutty for trying to help a friend. Very unlike myself, I broke down in the car with my friends. To help make me feel a little better, we all went out to eat, then my best friend Brandon spent the night with me, thinking it would ease the blow of the confrontation with my mother in the morning.
It didn't. She exploded. Irrationally. She threatened me with a pair of scissors, in front of Brandon. She told me she could "fucking kill me if she wanted to because I'm her child", in front of Brandon. I tossed a plastic bowl into the sink, she punched me for throwing her dishes.
About a week prior to that she made me quit my job after I refused to give her a hundred dollars gas money to be transported there, three days a week.
I feel kind of foolish for thinking that it would ever be anything different.
I wish there was a way I didn't have to be here.
The relationship between me and my grandmother is unexplainable. I sometimes make her eggs and toast in the morning. I bring her butter pecan ice cream and lemon pound cake when she asks for it. I try to look at her as a different person, as a stranger. I try to swallow my resentment. I smile. But inside I feel as though I'm betraying myself.
I wish there was a way I didn't have to be here.
-------------------------------------------------
But I guess this is the summer of the lasts. After this, it'll be over. After this, I'll be done.
Nothing for me to do, but have one last cry. For the very last time, stop living a lie.
I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down, I guess I'm down..
To my last cry.
