Welcome to Life

I found myself wondering if I'm a psychopath this evening.

Wow. What a stellar way to open an entry, huh?

But my dad is acing the whole "testosterone raging bull" act, my mother is being annoyingly docile, my sister is. . . well, being my sister. And I'm feeling oddly unaffected by the entire situation. While my dad stormed off without us, I just hoped he'd come home soon, because I left my yarn and needles in his truck for a knitting project.

So why am I being favored? Why do I feel oddly unattached and emotionally neutral about all of this? I don't know. It's rather queer, really. I'm just sitting here, knitting and typing this. I don't really care.

I haven't cried. I haven't mentally raged over "the unfairness of it all". I feel. . . like I'm floating. Almost. I wish I could go to an airport and fly somewhere. Anywhere. Just go, go, go. Just leave, and never look back.

After my dad stormed out of the Pizzeria, the remainder of my family slowly left. I paused in the middle of the road, tilted my head back and looked up at the sky. The evening was beginning to fade, and the parking lot's street lights had flickered on, a halo of moths fluttering around them. It had been overcast all day, and wispy, blue-grey clouds drifted by overhead. "What beautiful weather."

"I'll keep my helmet on,

Just in case my head caves in.

'Cause if my thoughts collapse,

Or my framework snaps

It'll make a mess, like you wouldn't believe.

Tie my handlebars to the stars,

So I stay on track.

And if my intentions stray

I'll wrench them away.

Then I'll take my leave,

And I won't even look back.

I won't even look back."