this is going to sound like a schizophrenic jumble but at the moment i don't really give a flying fuck.
last night i laid down and just couldn't sleep. i tossed and turned and nothing worked. i texted molly and not ten minutes later i was bawling my eyes out because i do not want to go back "home." every time i walk through the hallway my head will just be playing and replaying nightmares. i'll be spending my entire senior year hiding in my bedroom waiting for the coast to be clear to go take a piss, just because i want to avoid Her. how are you supposed to live with someone that for weeks you've been living in the delusion that they no longer exist? she is a ghost. a bad memory that i don't want to revisit. if i go back, i just know i'm going to let myself spin out of control. the hypocrit i am, i already am tempted by daydreams of harder drugs. hit a vein and ride the H train. let the acid melt on my tongue and dissolve my troubles. snort the white powder just to say i had the guts. i already feel the cracks returning, all the pieces of myself being held together by the will to savor these last few days. but i know that if i find the resources and come up with the lies, if i had the opportunity given to me, i will no longer have the strength to be smart, once i go back.
just as i was starting to let that awful sunday slip into the back of my mind, the reality hit me that i have one week. saturday morning i will be back in my old room in that awful house with that... that THING. i don't want to see that face or hear that voice. i will be facing the walking dead.
that song i wrote that i posted here a while back, "dead to me," i'm going to write the music. and i am going to belt it every night until somebody GETS THE FUCKING POINT! my dad is the kind of person that, whenever a problem arises, decides that it must be swept under the rug and forgotten. everything must remain the same as it always has. he did that when he found out i was slicing my wrists on a nightly basis. he did that when my ziplock bags of rejected food were discovered in the garbage bin. and now he's doing it with this. after i was hit. pushed to the floor. bruised. choked. he just wants everything to go back to the way it was. it can't. it's not even about forgiveness, or resolving issues, or mending a relationship. she's dead. i'm done with her. but no one understands. everyone expects me to give her a second chance. the benefit of the doubt. to have hope that maybe she's actually going to try this time.
i miss my sisters. but i can't go back. that is not home. that house is not a home.
i felt like once i came here, that dark cloud that had been looming over me and storming on me for so many years had finally left me. i could breathe again. for the first time in years. i've been happy here. genuinely happy. now i'm being thrown back into the rainstorm, to drown.
dammit. crying again. fuck. i hate crying. just another thing i can't fucking control.
i want so badly to be that little waif in black, smoking cigarettes and drinking black coffee, a slender mystery. so small, she's almost invisible. hiding behind the smoke. if i go back, my weight loss will not be due to a strive for beauty. it will be what it is: a loss. my stomach will be as empty as my eyes. i know myself well enough to know that my depression is going to hit me hard again. harder than ever before. thank god for rubber bands. but maybe when my bones are bruising my skin, they will finally realize that i cannot live there. that i will never be a happy, healthy, normal teenager if i'm under the same roof as that demon.
i'm not used to the lows anymore. i'm not used to the atmosphere of that awful place; as soon as you walk in it hits you how miserable everyone who lives there is. you wonder, "how can someone possibly live here? this house can't be a home."
dad keeps asking when i'm going to come home. i want to say, "i don't have a home to go home to."
i just want to scream and throw a tantrum. let them drag me crying down the sidewalk to my dad's car. maybe i will scream. surely i will beg.
please. don't make me go back!