I really am so angry just about being here. All of the other
shit – money, car, school – would be so much easier to shoulder.
I hate it here.
I HATE IT HERE.
There is a conflict for me with our house, though. We’ve
lived here for a really long time, and its where my kids are growing up, and
the backyard is beautiful – its like being in a park, and there are a lot of
other people who live here that I love and appreciate. I guess aside from all
of that, I FUCKING HATE IT HERE.
Growing up, I didn’t have any place to go. I didn’t have any
choice about where I was at any given time. I didn’t get to enjoy things that I
chose to enjoy. I didn’t get to get in bed at night and feel comfy and safe,
knowing my parents were near. I didn’t get to have any childhood experiences
like the ones on TV and in movies.
There are so many other things I was not able to choose,
like who I would loose my virginity to, and how to express feelings, and how to
feel safe, and getting excited about the little party my mom was throwing for
me when I graduated from high school. My main focus when I was growing up was
to get hurt as little as possible and to not die. Oh yeah –also to get the fuck
out of here.
I didn’t get to choose that for myself, but that’s what it
was, what it is.
As an adult I really
love the things I can choose that were not available to me as a child. I can
choose to not have breakfast and dinner every fucking night around the big
conference/dining table in the kitchen. I can choose not to read the bible, and
I can choose to not feel like a dirty whore for having sex. I can choose to not
believe that the god I was raised with is anything other than myth.
I can choose not to go to church, and I can choose what TV
shows and movies I watch and don’t watch. I can choose my own music, my own
books, etc., etc., etc.
I really do enjoy making those decisions for myself, and
having a legitimate say in what happens in my house and with my family. For example,
I made the decision that we would never have a round dining table, and we don’t.
We have never sat the kids down at the dining table and forced them to eat lima
beans and given them long lectures about how close they are to falling into the
bowels of hell. I have been able to make those decisions, and be respected for
them, even if it seemed like the decision I was making was trivial to other
people.
But I can’t get the fuck out of this motherfucking piece of
shit town. All I ever wanted to do was leave here. I didn’t know where I would
go. Probably not far; I fantasized a lot about having a trailer home in the
next town; it would have fit my budget and I would have loved every inch of it.
I never really yearned to travel all over the world or anything, just get the
fuck out of this motherfucking piece of shit town.
What if I am never able to leave here? What if the only way I
can get out of this motherfucking piece of shit town is to run away on a whim and
never look back? What if my only way out of here meant abandoning my husband
and kids and dog and friends? What if I DIE here and get BURIED here? My only
dying wish – seriously – is to be cremated and taken away from here. Anywhere but
here. If my loved ones want to dump my ashes into the air while bungee jumping
in Panama City , Florida
I fantasize about leaving here all the time. It never
actually occurred to me that it might never happen. Not until just now.
Fuck.
I really don’t think I will never get out of here. It would
be like, when I was a kid, thinking I would never get out of my parents’ house,
like I was doomed to be trapped in that place forever. If I had done that, I probably
would have died a long time ago.
Now that it has occurred to me that I might always be in
this motherfucking piece of shit town, I’m getting kind of antsy. But then I remember
that there is no way in hell it would happen. If it came down to it, I could
always just walk out the door and keep walking until I was outside the city
limits, and never go back. I don’t know how I would survive, but being dead out
of this town is a brighter prospect for my future than living here my whole
life.
Sometimes I think about that book, The Stand (Stephen King),
and how it would be to all of a sudden be completely alone here. The thing I would
do is start burning down houses. My mom’s would be first, then the nasty greasy
rapist pig’s across the street, and then the pedophiliac self adulating bitter
piece of shit’s next door, then the one diagonal from my mom’s, where the
used-car-salesman-looking douche bag raped me when I was 12.
There are some houses I would simply defile, the houses of
people who, when I was little, looked the other way, and told me I was bad, and
a liar, and looked down their noses at me. Those houses would not be worth the
effort of burning them down, but defiling them would be fun.
Then I would probably get through the shock of 98% of the
planet’s humans dying suddenly, and get really pissed, because even though I got
to burn the houses down, I’m now I’m left on own to survive again.
Christ.
Well the world’s humans have not almost completely died off,
and I am not here on my own to survive again, so I guess being stuck in this
motherfucking piece of shit town is not so bad.
But it is. I FUCKING HATE IT HERE.
No comments:
Post a Comment