I never thought I had a bad life, I actually always thought I had a simple and boring life. My mom works a nine to five, and my dad works a seven to six. We live in a nice house in the suburbs with two dogs and a twit little brother. We have a nice life through the eyes of most people, but behind closed doors everything is a nightmare. Every night I go to sleep with the sound of blood curdling screams from my mother and father trying to find some way to relive their anger, but only hitting at themselves through each other. I do believe they love one another, they have just forgotten to love themselves… Once in a while when my depression lets me be myself for a minute I go in and check on my baby brother; still so young and innocent. I walk down the hall slowly and slide in through the crack of his door so I do not wake him. He looks like he was the king of something in a past life; I sit on the floor beside his bed, kiss his forehead, and whisper “my little prince” just loud enough for me and his soft calm breaths to hear it. When no one is looking I love that little man more than the moon loves the stars. I know that what happens between my parents get to him, everyone has been naïve in thinking he isn’t smart enough to understand what is going on; but I was not raised to be naïve. I think what hurts me the most is that I am so mean to him for no reason other than I am jealous of him… I crave the attention he has from everyone. I am blind to see that I also get attention too, for my grades, from my teachers, my family, and random people that we meet at the grocery store. But I was so blind and jealous to see that I even get more attention than he does, and he may even be jealous of me. What a dumb thing to be jealous over… such a funny thing…
One of the down falls of having depression in a failing home is that everything hits you twice as hard, and maybe I’m just a big baby and can’t handle things like the big people can; but everyone in this entire universe has something in their lives that can make them break at any instant. Ironically mine just so happens to be life itself. I try so hard to be strong, or at least I tell myself that I am being strong, and I just glide through life being stuck in the same place. Anyways, I know where I want to be, I am not so sure how to get there but I believe that once I get out of the quick sand that is eating me alive I will find the cure for all of the world’s problems. I am strong enough to do that.
Every night is not always a bad night, and every morning we all wake up and pretend the night before never happened. My brother and I sit and eat breakfast together while my mom sits outside and smokes her “last cigarette”. The little prince and I sit side by side punching each other in the arm; each bruise means I love you. After he is done with breakfast I watch him walk away. Light brown hair, skinny as can be, year round tanned skin, freckles, bright green-blue
eyes, and the world’s most precious smile. I sit there at the Kitchen Island and think about all the girls I’m going to have to **** in the future. Young man so handsome, he is going to break hearts. I yell something ****** at him and then go back to my room to finish getting ready. Today I have decided to wear jeans and a plain white t-shirt; I finish my makeup and slide on my cowboy boots. I stand in front of my mirror and look at the person staring back at me and realize that I don’t even know who she is. A cousin maybe? A long lost sister? Who even knows at this point, and I am too disappointed in myself to care. When my I walk back down the hall my mother greets me with the usual “you look really cute today Donna”, but I don’t believe her. The demons in my mind take everything I hear and turn it around so that I get an angry lump in my throat and I want to punch a wall. I say something else mean to my little prince and then rub his face and kiss his cheek; my mom tells me I should be nicer because he is just a little guy but I fear that we would lose each other in a time of need if we were not like this.
School is another task all together, I can feel people looking at me and judging me… “she’s to tall…” “she’s fat…” the remarks go on and on; I can’t hear them say it but I know they are… why would they be looking at me if they weren’t trying to be mean? Maybe they aren’t even looking at me and the inconsiderate demons inside me tell me that my peers are just to get a reaction out of me. One day they will finally get what they are looking for. I am not an ugly girl, but that is what they tell me. I picture them as worm like creatures, or maybe even electric eels set on fire inside of me. So upset by the pain they are enduring that their only relief is to take it out on me(I would explain to you my face and figure, but I feel that it would take the point away from what I am telling you). I go through the rest of my day mechanically, smiling when I’m supposed too, raising my hand, giggling, doing all the little things that make me seem sane and composed on the outside. My image really is everything.
The second I get in the car my mom and I have some small talk, the sad thing is that we are so close and she doesn’t even know what is going on inside of me. I do not have the courage to tell her that I do not have the energy to keep pretending that I am alright and that I need her to save me, even though I am the one that should be saving her. Lord, why can’t I do this?
The night goes on the same as always except this time it started off with the potential to be a good one. One false word and the glass shatters all over the granite counter tops, and the ***** seeps down in through the cabinets. My little prince screams at them to stop but he just gets shot down by the red eyes of our mother and we both know that this has to happen. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t think. I scoop my little prince into my arms and run down the hall with him buried in my arms, trying to blockade the cries and whimpers coming from behind me. He screams for his mommy once again but she ignores him and the two parents battle keeps raging on. I keep that little boy with the precious smile in my room with me until all the lights are down and the house is silent. He has already fallen asleep from the weight of all the tears behind his fragile eyes. I lift him up in my arms and carry him to his room and lay him in his big boy bed. So young and innocent, so fragile slight. How could this little boy ever bare the things we see every night? I sit on my knees beside his bed once again and kiss his forehead. I silently whisper “my little prince” and star at the face of God’s greatest gift to me. I was so selfish thinking that those evil things inside of me were trying to attack me, but really they just wanted me to see that before I could save myself, I had to save my little prince.
And that is just what I did.