Amazingly Emo-like post
So, it's Sunday. Spring break's not even really started yet and I've been in Corbin for approximately 51 hours. Already the bullshit's began.
I had called Hootie as I didn't feel like hanging out in the living room and hammering out random musings to her via messenger. Anyway, she was busy and all so we hung up after a brief conversation. I didn't really feel well, so I just laid there for a little bit. That's when I heard it.
All of a sudden, I was thirteen again. It was 1998 and I was laying on my bed and listening in on the whispering detonation. In short, dad wants to get the hell out. I can't really blame him. The house is junky, everyone's health is bad, and we're poor.
However, the thing is, that he wants to get away. Totally. He doesn't want me to be around, or mom, or anyone else. He wants to go off to where 'no one knows who the hell he is so that he can die in peace someday.' He said he 'doesn't want to be involved in Edna's (a sister) mess or involved with mother or I.' I know they don't think that I heard, because after a bit I finally walked in and they acted as if everything is ok. They still treat me like I'm 13.
Anyway, dad uttered something about suicide and how I don't need him around to take care of or whatever. It's such bullshit. He's selfish, and she is too I guess. They don't realize that I really do need a family right now. This college/finding yourself/becoming something significant thing is a lot harder than it seemed at first and I'm actually having to work to keep up. At any rate, all they're doing is making it harder on me.
It's just like high school. They fucked that up for me too. I couldn't deal with all of their bullshit and I just zoned out and didn't apply myself to anything. I wouldn't come to class or do homework or even socialize very much. I hope I don't get dragged into that again. It seems that everytime I begin something arduous they have to start this 'we're little kids and can't make up our minds' bullshit. I can't let them fuck this up for me.
I want so badly to care, to emerse myself in the madness and try to keep everyone afloat. I can't, though. I need to do this whole college thing for me. I can't allow myself to be poor my entire life. I'm not being shallow, I just can't deal with it. It's too much worry, too much distraction, too much turmoil. They, especially my father, don't know how much this sort of thing boggs me down and depresses me. It's the same crap that led to me going down to Florida.
Just, I don't know. I'm never good enough. I've got a 4.0 GPA, I'm doing Phi Sigma Pi, I'm starting to get published and I'm in the honor's program. He still wants nothing to do with me. I think it's always going to be this way, but I know I'll never get over this. I've just got to fight every instinct and not become him.
He was brilliant. The man was a fantastic artist, a good writer, and could make friends with pretty much anyone. He could have been so much, could have made so much out of himself. Even when he got out of the army, he was practically going to be paid to go to college to make something of himself. He refused.
I guess that's one reason why I can't stand him sometimes. Mom couldn't help it, she had a really bad situation thrust upon her via her parents and all. Dad could have been so much more. I could be one of those hapless, clueless suburbanites living in my cookie-cutter suburban house with my nice car and going to a nice school wearing nice clothes. I wouldn't have to be worrying about whether or not my car will make it back to Richmond next Sunday or if I'll have gas money to go around and see my friends. It shouldn't be like this, and for most folks I know it's not. He really fucked that up for me. But that's being selfish and petty.
I know, deep down, that being poor has helped form a better, deeper me. I just wish that the depth and perception that adversity brought could have been gained in some other way, or that eventually something would go right. It just seems as if it never will. I'll never be good enough to make him want to stay. That cuts me to my core.
I had called Hootie as I didn't feel like hanging out in the living room and hammering out random musings to her via messenger. Anyway, she was busy and all so we hung up after a brief conversation. I didn't really feel well, so I just laid there for a little bit. That's when I heard it.
All of a sudden, I was thirteen again. It was 1998 and I was laying on my bed and listening in on the whispering detonation. In short, dad wants to get the hell out. I can't really blame him. The house is junky, everyone's health is bad, and we're poor.
However, the thing is, that he wants to get away. Totally. He doesn't want me to be around, or mom, or anyone else. He wants to go off to where 'no one knows who the hell he is so that he can die in peace someday.' He said he 'doesn't want to be involved in Edna's (a sister) mess or involved with mother or I.' I know they don't think that I heard, because after a bit I finally walked in and they acted as if everything is ok. They still treat me like I'm 13.
Anyway, dad uttered something about suicide and how I don't need him around to take care of or whatever. It's such bullshit. He's selfish, and she is too I guess. They don't realize that I really do need a family right now. This college/finding yourself/becoming something significant thing is a lot harder than it seemed at first and I'm actually having to work to keep up. At any rate, all they're doing is making it harder on me.
It's just like high school. They fucked that up for me too. I couldn't deal with all of their bullshit and I just zoned out and didn't apply myself to anything. I wouldn't come to class or do homework or even socialize very much. I hope I don't get dragged into that again. It seems that everytime I begin something arduous they have to start this 'we're little kids and can't make up our minds' bullshit. I can't let them fuck this up for me.
I want so badly to care, to emerse myself in the madness and try to keep everyone afloat. I can't, though. I need to do this whole college thing for me. I can't allow myself to be poor my entire life. I'm not being shallow, I just can't deal with it. It's too much worry, too much distraction, too much turmoil. They, especially my father, don't know how much this sort of thing boggs me down and depresses me. It's the same crap that led to me going down to Florida.
Just, I don't know. I'm never good enough. I've got a 4.0 GPA, I'm doing Phi Sigma Pi, I'm starting to get published and I'm in the honor's program. He still wants nothing to do with me. I think it's always going to be this way, but I know I'll never get over this. I've just got to fight every instinct and not become him.
He was brilliant. The man was a fantastic artist, a good writer, and could make friends with pretty much anyone. He could have been so much, could have made so much out of himself. Even when he got out of the army, he was practically going to be paid to go to college to make something of himself. He refused.
I guess that's one reason why I can't stand him sometimes. Mom couldn't help it, she had a really bad situation thrust upon her via her parents and all. Dad could have been so much more. I could be one of those hapless, clueless suburbanites living in my cookie-cutter suburban house with my nice car and going to a nice school wearing nice clothes. I wouldn't have to be worrying about whether or not my car will make it back to Richmond next Sunday or if I'll have gas money to go around and see my friends. It shouldn't be like this, and for most folks I know it's not. He really fucked that up for me. But that's being selfish and petty.
I know, deep down, that being poor has helped form a better, deeper me. I just wish that the depth and perception that adversity brought could have been gained in some other way, or that eventually something would go right. It just seems as if it never will. I'll never be good enough to make him want to stay. That cuts me to my core.