What would happen if I began shrieking? And then took a permanent marker and scarred up my grandmother’s gleaming new cupboards? And then chucked a glass mug through the windowpanes? Let all that chilled air in here.
She’s cleaning something in the bathroom…I’m doing schoolwork…ooh, I’m tempted…
I need to stop this. A spell is coming on, I can feel it, this is a bad time…can’t concentrate. Gonna hurt something.
There’s a caved-in Valentine’s balloon in the living room, floating near the ceiling…ha ha, Valentine’s day…my mother was committed to the hospital on the day of love…we brought her flowers and told her through glass smiles that she was a wonderful, amazing, strong person, full of potential. That she’d overcome her eating disorder, get back on track, quit with the exercising. Maybe she’d agree to a divorce, finally, so that my dad could be free to have intellectual conversations with his girlfriend…hahahahahahahahaha
I’m so happy, my grandmother says I’m beaming, and it’s true, there she is now, fumbling with some rugs…she’s a good person, cares about everyone…a tad condescending, but what does that matter? She loves her hypocritical teen granddaughter.
And I can’t stand her…wow, I’m terrible awful and need to be burned alive. She has done so much for me, and I’m too much of a millennial dumb-ass to grow the fuck up and appreciate my family.
She denies some things. Some truths can’t get past that evangelical filter. She says I look adorable in my guy’s hoodie, ha, ha, ha.
Bye, ignore this rant, it’s selfish and self-serving. Hopefully I won’t always be this hateful…