Emily

Day In the Life of an American Teen
2020-06-17 02:04:42 (UTC)

Rachel

Rachel is my mom's name. I actually really like that name. She's got these really blue eyes. I used to think they looked like ice when she got mad. The kind of ice that burns your skin when you touch it. Usually she has little breaks in between her little psycho modes. Today, it feels like it has been all day.

"I hate this house! I hate this family! I hate living here!" Is what she says.

I wish I could fix her. But everything that is wrong in her life is her fault. She had my older brother just so that, and I quote, "someone would love her unconditionally."
My middle name is Robyn. After my brother's dad, Rob. My mom thought if she convinced Rob that I was his, he would stay with her. She didn't. It's funny that my mom is a cheater. Like mother, like daughter. That's why I really don't want to have kids. I don't want to end up like my mom, but I know I will if I have kids. I don't have that kind of patience.

One of my little brothers accidentally flooded the toilet. Of course the water goes under the sink and we can't just leave it down there or it'll mold. I try to clean it up with towels. My mom tells me to mop it so I start boiling some water. Next thing I know she's just taken over and she's cleaning. I tried to help. But then she's screaming at me because she's angry because this wasn't "on her agenda." I don't know why she always makes plans when they always fall through. Anyway, by the end of it she's throwing mold at me and my favorite hoodie I have on. So that's great. God. She acts like a 5 year old and tries to parent me. I told her to figure it out herself then.

She just kept rampaging the whole day. Slamming door and cabinets and kicking the dog out of her way. I try to focus on the TV. It's almost like if I just stay still and hold my breathe, she won't see me and find something to scream at me about.

I sorted the laundry, I took out the trash, I put away the laundry when she asked but she still yells at me for playing video games too long. So I get up and try to help make dinner. She doesn't answer me, so I make my own plate first because I know what I want on my plate.

"Really, I thought you were going to help me?" But I don't know who wants what on their plate. Nothing is ever good enough for her. I used to tell my mom when I was kid that I was gonna get really rich and let her live in my mansion. I've always tried to fix her. I can't count how many times she's said, "I hate this family."

We've moved houses 4 times. Each time, she manages to end up making it a mess. She hoards everything. "No, I can't get rid of that box shoelaces. I might need it." She makes her life a living nightmare. She cries and cries and cries about how she hates her life. "My kids are brats, my house is messy, I hate my husband." But it's all her fault.

Oh, and now I'm listening to her very loudly accuse my stepdad of watching porn last night. Using the grey towel. That I use to wash my face with. I hate living here so much. At least Leo was nice to me after he hurt my feelings for the most part. Sure he hurt me a lot but he always made me feel better. Mom never does that. She's still yet to apologize for throwing mold at me, like a fucking 5 year old. Sometimes I feel like I'm taking care of her more than she's ever taken care of me.




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