Now I have to take him seriously. Who cares if my room's a little dirty? He ain't sleeping in it. And so what if I don't throw away my old clothes? They fit me, I like them, there are no holes in them, I'll keep wearing them. But now he tells me he's serious. He's as angry as he's ever been. But I'm not going to budge. Why? Well, first off, his hormones are off the fucking charts again. He was pretty nice when he came home from Vegas on Wednesday, so once again I'm thinking he's suffering from the male equivalent of PMS.
The other big reason? Where would I start? I'll tell you a secret; my room should be cleaned. But there are a lot of goddamn things in there that I want to keep and that I need to keep. Of course, the other stuff has to go, but going through it takes a lot of time. Like, more than three years. And after he threatened me tonight -- and I hate threats -- I don't think I'm going to get around to it for a while. So fuck you, Father.
Deep down inside, I have a shameful secret: I can't live without my family. I can't be out on my own. It's a scary place out there. Last time I was out on my own I was living in El Paso for half the year and I got my dad's truck stolen. I'm still ashamed of it. Plus, living by myself with no real friends ... it takes me to the existential place I feel we all will eventually go to, but it still feels terrible. For all the bullshit I have to put up with with my family, I feel they're the only ones who will take me in unconditionally. Otherwise, it's me out in the cold. And that's why what my Father said to me scares me (although every time he tells me he's throwing me out scares me). I can't make it alone.
And so there's my conundrum. I can't live with these people, yet I can't live without them, either. What am I going to do?
Oh yeah, by the way, he always demanded that I shower every day and wash the tub. Fuck you again, Father. You gonna make me? Every single goddamn day?
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