1 Step Forward, 715 Miles Back

In hindsight, I'm not sure what I expected out of this move.

Did I really think a brand new house would magically erase all my father's actions? My mother's inaction? My sister's abuse? My saccharine affability?
I guess I just hadn't cared.

Now, of course, it's all hitting the fan. Tears and screaming and threats to move out- the whole 9 yards. And I am left berating myself, yet again (god if this doesn't reek of deja-vu), for not seeing the signs. For not making the right predictions. For leaving when I should have been there, and for being there when I should have left. Shit, I'm getting all pseudo-poetic.

My mother is behaving too much like my father. In short: unacceptably. She's said things she has no right to, and has made accusations that have no basis.

I was going to say I'm not overflowing with fondness for her right now but.
I don't know what to do.
I'm caught in the middle again.
I've heard from my sister, of course, and my mom really has said some downright disgusting things, yes.
But I don't know what to do because this family is already broken so what do people expect me to do how am I supposed to be the go-between, supposed to be "Switzerland" again?

I'm not sure who I'm siding with and I don't think I can side with someone and yes
yes that is pathetic
yes that is deplorable
yes, I should be strong enough smart enough good enough to pick a side and stick with it
But I don't think I am
and I don't know who to help

I didn't confront mom when she came home
everyone's tip toeing again, saying nothing and playing dollhouse for some invisible puppet master, the tension stringing up our joints and pulling at the edges of our lips
I was going to tell her, did you know?
I was going to look her in the eye and say
"What you said was unacceptable, and there is no excuse for it. You know what that means to your daughter, I don't care how angry you were. That is not acceptable."

And
I didn't
and suddenly i'm 12 all over again and i'm getting my dad a beer with a smile on my lips and a blankness in my eyes because I don't want to but I don't know what else to do how else to help what can a girl even do when she's got the bitter waft of alcohol pinning her like butterfly and the soft sound of her sister crying digging it's way into her ears, winding through the soft highways of her brain until it pricks the corners of her eyes and turns the room into a salt-sour blur

I have not changed
I am still as weak and needlessly amiable as ever
I'm like a sheep

So now I'm stuck in a house that is no longer called home, stretched by two sides that I cannot decide between and my sister's soft assurance of "I'm moving in with auntie" still furling it's way into my ears.

I thought our family was going to be better
i was supposed to help
where did i go wrong
what did i not do




what do i do?

sorry for being such a self-loathing teenaged cliche

I Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly to be Fearful of (Being) the Night

I am tired, dissatisfied and a phenomenally shitty writer.

As is evident by my fantastically rambly opener.

Only Living Ghost to Grace the Hall

Today is my sister's 18th birthday.


I wrote her a long letter, last night. Sort of in-re to a letter she wrote me a few weeks ago. Her's wasn't that long, to be honest, but it was. Illuminating, I suppose, if you'll pardon the Lizzie Bennet reference. She said that I loved her when no one else did. Said that it would've been easier for me to have hated her at certain times.

I hadn't been aware there had been a time when she hadn't been loved.
And now that I know otherwise, I'm sad.

summer.

i. fill your sink with cold water. put on a tank top, or sports bra, or nothing at all. shave your arms. shave all of your arms; the tops and the undersides and the little hairs on your shoulders. marvel at how cool it feels to put shirts on. rub your arms in circles every now and then. smile.

ii. walk to your nearest bookstore. or target. or supermarket. find the book section and make a small stack of the ones you’d like to read. sit down in the aisle and start reading until you’re kicked out or grow tired of it. smile at everyone who stares at you. offer them one of your books.

iii. wake up and decide that today is a day for a pillow fort. do so spontaneously and with no real knowledge of proper pillow-fort assembly. steal all pillows and blankets regardless, and attempt to make one by the kitchen table. sneak in some books, music and snacks. watch netflix until you fall asleep.