Saturday, February 7, 2009


Every car ride is a portable emotional calamity.

Feeling like you're up to doing something tonight? You'd better walk, because once you get into that car you're going to get harassed beyond your own comprehension. Feeling like going to a friends house? Just get the to pick you up, because chances are, if you ask your parents to drive you over they're going to put you in a shitty mood and you're going to have to lie to your friends with the smiley face that you're so good at making when you get there. They should come pick you up anyway right? Or make some effort to come to you for once? Maybe if they cared about seeing you at all? Feeling like going bowling for school, don't ask to stay at any one's house for the night. You're lying lying lying and they think you're going to be drunk high sexually exposed. You might as well just get dropped off by some one later, it'll be easier than them knowing you don't have the rebellious gene to just go somewhere on your own.

Every time I leave my room they stare at me.

I should just stay in here because I think I must've developed some sort of disease. They won't look at me the same way. It's like every word I say is a vicious venom that seeps into them and the only way they can abate the horrendous pain of my presence is to just try to break my self-esteem down in some way. It's killing me slowly. It's like working incredibly hard your entire life to try to make people happy about the things you do, and as soon as they know exactly what you do, as soon as you can't lie any more, that's when the fists start flying. Emotionally at least.

So I might be valedictorian.

who cares?

I might be getting 2000$ towards my tuition just with my average.

could be more.

I want to study particle physics in a lab with amazingly insightful people.

there'd be better things to do.

I want to follow my dream.

Then keep sleeping.

You can only hear enough of your original ideas being crushed before you'd just like to stop thinking. It's like pushing an unmovable object. You just keep forcing and forcing as the fatigue builds up but with no give. There isn't an infinite amount of perseverance in me. Now picture yourself again, pushing an immovable, you're body aching and crying out for release, now picture the fists and deadly pointed egos of others burying into your flesh as you try so desperately to get ahead. This is the metaphor of what my grade 12 year has been like. How much longer can I do this?

So you're in the moving emotional calamity.

I don't think I've ever wished for the car to go out of control so much in my entire life. Just praying for some chaos in this life. Just praying for something to get away from the cookie cutter she loves so much. I'm sick of ginger-bread-men let's just make some mishapen balls of dough.

I think I'll just walk out soon.

I can picture their reactions, I can picture my witty come backs.

Where are you going?


Out where?

Why does it matter?

Because we care about you and want to know where you are.

Then I'm going to Derrick's.

You're lying.

You're right.

This is how it would go, and I'd like to see how it would play out. Things have been breaking the mould a little bit lately though. My father's been swearing at me. I've never heard him openly swear in his entire life. My mother's starting to cry all the time because she thinks I hate her. Today she told me that I can buy my own razors to shave with now (I'd never had to before) because I had enough money for cabs back and forth to some one's house once. Just once.

I impulsively spent 11$, I am now fully and utterly financially secure, and therefore independant.

I want the keys to an apartment.

Last night was special. Not really.

Tonight will be work. I'll like that. I can see why people enjoy work, it's like when there's nothing to really do in real life anymore, you entertain yourself somewhere else. It's the closest place to home because people are still giving you orders, and you still have your own little rebellions to make it exciting. It's like life for dummies. Just a nice little simulation of how you're supposed to act in your own home. So you test things out to scale there, and then try them out when you get back home. It's The Sims: Sobeys edition. Tonight, at ten, I'm off work. Want a drive home from work? You'd better walk, because as soon as you get in that car it's just more fights fights confrontations.

1 comment:

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