bored out of my mind
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Small things frustrate me to tears. A red light, a lost
shoe, a window that won't open. Fought with my father
yesterday morning. He picks and picks at me. Finally I
lost control. He didn't like that. He called my mother,
who came rushing home from work to make sure I didn't hurt
myself. But by the time she got home I'd already done it.
I related what had actually happened to her with my arms
folded so the blood wouldn't show. I know I'm not insane.
That would be too easy. I don't know what I'm going to
do. In this room, barely five feet from me, my father
lies rustling his newspaper and maintaining a cold
silence. I don't know if I can stand the weeks and weeks
of petty things he'll do. But his self-respect lies in
getting revenge on me for standing up for myself. I don't
want to die. Invisibility would be nice.