January 27, 2003
Something Quiet
Everybody wants something from me. Even my mother, who has know dropped, happily for her, I am sure, off the face of the earth, wants something from me. She wants me to be someone else. Dad wants me to listen. Justin wants me to shut up. Stupid boys want me to pay them attention they don't deserve. The government wants my money. School wants my money and my time and my soul.
The only person, the only entity, I want to want something from me... doesn't, not really. Doesn't even need me, really.
I'm pissed off and ready to cry all at once. Perhaps it's the same thing anyway.
When the phone rings, who will it be? He's already very much late, and despite my little romantic notions, he won't come with a flower and a smile and a meek apology. I should've acted like I cared the first seven or eight times and he might have considered being on time.
He would've been late anyway... who am I kidding?
Mom? I'm sure she's too busy to have her sexually active daughter in her life. Because that must be all she sees when she sees me. Not good grades. Not pretty eyes. Not responsibly and maturity and dedication. No, not that. Maybe she'll find herself a new daughter, too. Problem: I don't want a new mother.
Dad? Probably. Calling, frantic, bitching and sobbing interchangeably, and I am called cold hearted because I wear a stone face. Can I help that I am still more angry than sad? Can I help that I just want something normal, something quiet, something stable?
When the phone rings, will I even want to answer it? Won't I answer it anyway?
astera at 12:38 p.m.