The Nightshade Princess
2002-05-18 03:34:23 (UTC)

Peace and other lies

I know it has been a long time since I last wrote. I
can't say that nothing has occured since that time. This
long, literary scream alone bears witness to all that I
have known in those missing weeks and months.
I grow more miserable at father's house with each
passing day. I do not belong in that castle of sun-
worshiping and convention. We do not eat the same foods,
nor like any of the same activities, and he is always
taking mine away from me for no reason at all. Father, his
girlfriend, and my brother, all constantly exclude me from
all. I have tried to be a part of that home, but I am not
welcome. Yet he holds onto me, he does not let me leave!
It is as if he wants me dead, or does not care so much what
happens to me, only that his house is clean and someone is
always there at home, waiting for him a smile and a hug -
yet those are as plastic as they come. He does not want
what is best for me, as parents should. He never has. All
his decisions seem to be based on the thought of vengeance
or carelessness, or a sort of unconscious self-centered
nature that resides within him. Sometimes he makes
attempts at peace, and sometimes I also go through these
ritual motions. In the end, though, it has little or no
real effect. We smile at each other and drift off to
meaningless dreams, or more horribly, dreams that speak in
mute whispers of the coming times.
His "beloved girlfriend" and I got into quite an
argument last weekend. I had wanted to go out that eve
with my beloved, and I thought that I had already mentioned
this to father. In fact, I was certain it had been voiced,
though not necessarily heeded. Well, father did not come
home that night until around 9-10pm. The boat was gone,
and he had apparently either shut his cellular phone off
for the rather impressive amount of hours in which he was
gone, or else was out of range. It still seemed
irresponsible to my brother and myself. I watched my
brother go through his usual frustrations by hacking up
various discarded objects with a machete. The anger seeped
into me as well, and I have never been one for violence or
rage of any sort. I began throwing and beating and
generally destroying similarly discarded (and occasionally
not discarded) items, with the sun slicing into my delicate
night eyes. Father hadn't been to work that week more than
a day and a half, at the most, and I was extremely pissed
off that I was not told what the fuck was going on. I had
been shut out of what was once my life again.
His girlfriend showed up at our door wanting to "check
on" us, and I asked her in a slightly breathless yet
entirely non-threatening voice where on earth father was.
I mentioned that he hadn't been to work much that week and
that he was always out on the boat, and he KNEW I was
supposed to go out that night - what was going on? That
was all I said. Granted, it did seem to come out more or
less in one long sentance, but I swear to you it was only
in a tone of breathless worry.
She, however, responded by yelling and swearing at me,
telling me to stop being so selfish and why don't I get a
fucking job and all other manner of bullshit. I, being
already taxed beyond all normal limits, screamed. I am
uncertain what I screamed, but I did scream. After it was
over, I ran through the side door and slammed it shut. My
mother had been on the phone the whole time and she was
extremely pissed off at the bitch. Then, she had the
fucking NERVE to knock on my door about 45 minutes or so
later (when finally I went back inside) and demand
a "heartfelt apology." I balled my hands into fists at my
sides and coldly told her to have a nice evening and shut
the door. I was NOT taking shit from her or anyone
else. ::sighs:: I never used to be this angry. I shall
write another entry, probably tonight, about some of the
other things that have happened, but this page has gotten
long enough.
Love eternal,