It's not that I don't love my family. It's just that sometimes I want to kill them all. All of them together. Even Zooey lately, because they're starting in the talk that makes me want to throw up. What Are You Going To Do With Your Life? My crazy has been controlled so the grace period is over, not that it hasn't happened before.
After each freakout it's happened. Grade school, middle school and high school. I haven't told you about the other ones yet. Soon. But really soon this time. Very soon.
Any time I flip the widget everyone treats me like I'm made out of folded paper. For a few weeks. Then it all comes rushing back. Collapsing dam drowning the townspeople of my self esteem. (Love affair with metaphors much? I think so.) First it's all, "We're sorry about the job fair!" and "Just take your time!" Now it's all, "Do you ever think about going back to college?"
Sure, but I also think about stuff my nostrils full of burning embers. I'm twisted like that. Why will no one believe me when I say that I'm not ready, don't want to go, in no good state for college? Only dad listens, but his voice is drowned out. It's always been that way.
Back before I was even doing crazy things and claiming to see someone following me, he listened to me. He's real quiet, my dad. The polar opposite of my mom and Zooey. I'd say I'm more like him, but he's got this quiet strength. Too stable for me to be like him. When he gets angry it's like God getting angry. The only time I've ever seen him raise his voice was that day he punched out my ex who was stalking me. But that's a story for another time.
My dad likes to read. He likes to sit and read and not be bothered by anyone or anything. He's non-confrontational, which is a problem because confrontation keeps finding us. He saw Zooey's eating disorder happen. He saw my breakdown coming. He couldn't do anything about it because he never wants to upset anyone. Sometimes you have to make people hurt to heal a deeper wound. That's what I learned with my mom.
But now I'm old enough and I've been through this enough that I know that I can't listen to what other people say. Yeah, I should get a Real Job and join the Real World with my Real Money and Real Responsibility, but now's not the time. Isn't it enough that I have an apartment and a job? Does anyone even remember how hard that road was for me?
I shouldn't complain so much, I know, but if not here, where? I ask you that.
When I grow up (for real this time) I'm going to move to some little island in the Caribbean. I'll rent bikes to tourists and spend the rest of my days lounging on the beach and reading. I don't even care if there's not a TV, I'll settle for reading my beloved Nicholas Sparks.
And I'll never talk to anyone in my family ever again. And it will be a beautiful, beautiful thing.
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