i was leaving to go on some boat trip my parents had forced me to sign up for while they were on some ''spiritual journey to Hawaii'' or something in three hours.
They were probably just gonna be fucking the whole weekend, they probably think i don't know..i know more than they think. i know things, remember?
like how my dad used to sneak out to smoke at night and say he was ''just going on a walk''. Or how he would go to meet up with his ''friends'' to drink. was it not obvious he was meeting up with his new boyfriend? how the fuck did my mom not realise sooner??
my thoughts were racing stupid, random shit to try distract myself from the lingering thought which was the trip. how the hell does anyone find interest in boats?! i hate boats. no, fuck that, i hate the ocean, i hate the sea, i hate beaches, i hate everything to do with water. why did i agree to this??? WHY DID I AGREE TO THIS??? i grabbed my pillow and threw it at my wall before launching the glass of water i had left on the side to the floorboards. glass shards flew everywhere, water splashed onto my small, circular carpet that was half under my bed. one of the shards grazed my cheek and a small drop of blood trickled down to my chin. for fucks sake.
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I began packing: id be away from home for 5 weeks. 5 long hard weeks... what the fuck was i supposed to do??
My dad said i might ''meet a friend'' there. yeah right. i don't even talk, let alone to a complete stranger that id never see again that i met on some stupid trip. i sighed and sat down on my hard wooden floor.
i did not want to do this at all, not one bit. i feel like this is some stupid ploy to get me to talk or something. talking takes too much energy, i care too much about my energy. what am i supposed to do if i get tired?
i glance at the clock then stood back up again, forgetting that i only had.. wait, how long??? i look at the clock again, the hour hand hovering over the eight, i had an hour and a half before i had to leave to the stupid fucking boat trip. i needed to say goodbye to my room and my house.. what the fuck? why am i thinking like i'm never coming home..? i stopped packing my stuff into the suitcase to think. i wasn't going to die was i? surely not. it has to be safe, they cant just let teenagers onto a dangerous boat..this wasn't gonna end up like the titanic, right???
i glanced at the clock one last time. one hour. i was silently praying it wasn't gonna be a long hour, i don't know what id do, i don't know how id deal with waiting. waiting is not my thing. I suddenly remembered my cut, it could pass as a shaving injury. i grabbed a cloth from the bottom drawer in the shelving unit in the corner of my room, then began to wipe at my face. once i was happy that all the blood had gone, i looked at the floor. i'm pretty sure i could play off the glass as an accident, right? i sigh again and cross to the side of my bedroom where i had chucked the pillow. i probably needed to pack this too, who knows how uncomfortable the pillows there might be? should i bring a blanket? sleeping bag? i was gonna miss this bed, holy shit. after deciding, yeah, i was gonna bring a sleeping bag and blanket, i stuffed them into the suitcase, which was now almost bursting with the amount of stuff id put in it. my stuff was important to me, very important.
