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You ever have one of those days where you just want to die?
Or sleep until the sun burns out?
And instead of just cutting your wrist, you want to slice off a whole damn leg?
Heh.
So...basically...I won't be living with my dad.
For a long time.
Possibly forever.
And it won't be an immediate action, but it will be soon. By jove, I'll make it soon.
Saying everything that went down this morning will make me cry worse, so here's your summary:
I wake up at 6:30 this morning to the yelling of my dad. I hear Lisa and him fighting, and think about curling up in a ball and forgetting that my sister and father are about to rip throats out. I go downstairs to find them screaming about college. Apparently, my sister had said something that set my dad off, and he yelled at her and she began to cry. My dad gets pissed at her tears, and she gets angry at him for never being a good father. She says I don't want to live with you anymore, and my dad starts pinning the fact he was never a good father on us. That it was our fault. And that we should have been better kids so he would have been a better father.
Bull shit.
I run back upstairs and I can still hear them bitching. I start to cry, but don't want to get yelled at more than I have to. Lisa runs upstairs and her face is red and puffy. I give her a hug and she cries harder.
Time for school.
I don't want to go to school. I don't want to be there. I don't want to have to get in the damn car to ride to school.
We effectively produced 3290534958 homo babies in that car ride.
Since I wasn't the one who picked the fight, I was practically neutral ground for talking. My sister talked to me because she didn't want to talk to dad, and my dad talked to me because he didn't want to talk to my sister.
After a painful 7 minutes, I get out of the car and start to cry. Goddamnit. So I have to choose the worst fucking place to cry...in front of the damn school. With fucking 2400 kids.
& nbsp;My sister and I are both streaming tears, and I want to dig a hole in the linoleum floor and shoot myself. I make it to my locker and talk to Mattie. We walk back to the front, and I'm still crying. People look at my like I'm on crack (which I wish I was) and I contemplate choking myself to death right there.
'Stop crying you pussy. If you cry anymore I'm going to fucking slap you.'
Gee...you're so...caring...
And then, because Natalie is the master of her emotions, everything bottles up inside. And everything gets squeezed into a smaller and smaller object, and is pushed down inside her hardened heart. I won't think about it, I won't focus on it, I won't deal with it. I have to let it sit and ferment. Because I can't handle it yet. I'll never be able to handle shit like this. I never could...I'm not that strong. It won't be let out until next thursday, or until we have to go to court to change the custody laws.
Oh, yea, we have to do that or my mom would be charged with kidnapping. Fuck. This is exactly what it was like when I was little.
If I go to counseling for this, I'm fucking throwing sulphuric acid in my eyeballs.
Something I wrote a long time ago seems to fit pretty well right now:
'A perfect little girl, the picture of grace. Everyone is fooled when they look at her face. They think she's content and worry free. Not caring at all about who she should be. She hides inside of hereself, protected by a shell. Pretending she's fine, so that other's can't tell. "If they knew the truth, that I am really unsure; they they would take care of me. Try to find a cure. I can't be a burden, so I'll just lie. Laughing it off when I really want to die." Her bright shiny eyes only sparkle like glass. And her painted red lips never let true feeling pass. Is this really the girl she wants to be? Her sweet china mask will keep her safe, but she has forgotten how easily china can break. So thery fix her up with a dab of glue. Not really caring if that's what is true. It never really matters if she's truly herself, as long as she looks perfect when placed on the shelf.'
Maybe soon I won't be hiding.
Oh, yea, another good reason why slicing the veins in my legs and lying in a bath of vinegar sounds like a good idea is that Mattie's in trouble.
Pretty much hella trouble.
And her mom is angry. And she wants to talk to my mom.
It's not my fault. And for Mattie's sake I won't say what happened, but it's not bad. It's just frowned upon. So I can't ever be in Mattie's house again, and Mattie can't come to mine. My mom won't flip shit if Mattie's mom talks....just...it'd be easier if she didn't.
Ugh...today wasn't right. Feel free to holler 'SLUT' at me when I pass in the halls. I deserve it.
Or start throwing your dollar bills.
Possibly condoms if you feel venturous.
Maybe just punch me hard enough in the back of the neck to snap my spine and render me brain dead.
No crying today.
No punching tomorrow.
No cutting right now.
And no sleeping tonight.
I'm really sorry.
Natalie
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