the art of

seven » excuses

They fed me with their hatred of one another. They exposed that true love results in nothing. They taught me that true love can only exist in Disney movies and that's it. Love can never last when there isn't a fairy godmother to wave her wand and fix anything. Love can never last when you pray to a man upstairs who watches as the war unfolds in front of a young child's eyes. Love can never last.

I did feel connections with people as the time I spent in this world got longer, older. I did feel a string that tied our wrists together and when we ran farther apart from one another, the string got weaker from holding us together and when it finally snapped, I realized that love can never last and that my parents were always right.

I realized that my weight matters more to the people who talk about it rather than it does to me. I realized that they were right: I was overweight and miserably ugly. I realized that their opinions always had a place in my mind and my surroundings, whether they were buried with the rest of the dark thoughts or if they were nailed on the walls for everyone to see. I realized that no matter how hard I tried to shed the pounds or how little I ate, they would always have a dark cloud sent my way. I realized that no matter how much makeup can be brushed onto my face that my true hideous reflection can never be cloaked. I realized that surgery can be my best friend. Maybe getting a rhinoplasty will put a rest on the taunts. Maybe liposuction will help me find someone who will stay in my life. Maybe.

Correction: I realized that they were pressuring me to become an unexisting form of perfection and I didn't say a word as they continued to.

There were days where everything crumbled right through my fingertips as if my life was a sandcastle that got stomped on by a giant. One particular day stood out from all of the other nightmares. The sun decided that it was its day to shine in a city smothered by the fog. The sun slapped away the fog and shone its truest colors. The thermometer spiked up in a matter of minutes and everyone turned to ice cream trucks. While the city smiled and spun underneath the sun, my family hid in their own little caves around the house. I sat on my bed with my favorite cup of homemade juice and began to type away on the laptop as Lana Del Rey sang so beautifully in the background. It was utter bliss; the struggles and pain drowned away as her voice echoed across the walls. Yet that was too good to be true. Her voice was growing loudly, trying its best to block out the screams next door. I slowly turned down the volume to hear that the monster had come out of its cave. I heard him grab Mother's burned hand and scream the loudest he ever has. My younger brother shook in his stance; his legs barely supported him as fear took over him. He yelled at how he is the greatest man alive, who won't let anyone, especially her, treat him like this. He can do whatever the hell he wants, repeat, repeat, repeat some more.

Then his footsteps headed towards my room as my hands began to shake with every letter I typed into the screen. He broke the door open and yelled at me to go downstairs. I muttered fine and headed over to see the family at its seams. He forced me to sit down at the table as he went on about how this is not a family. Then he started slamming the table against the walls, breaking the plates and the little ornaments on the table. His drink fell to the ground, not shattering―of course, he wouldn't dare to break his bottles. And the horrible thing is? He didn't bother picking anything else up but his drink. He didn't pick up the shards of glass, didn't pick up the food spilled, didn't pick up anything but his stupid bottle of wine. I never addressed him as Father, Dad, or Papa. Why should I? He hasn't given me a reason to. I stayed strong and didn't let a tiny tear slip as I cleaned up after his mess. Mother went to get a wet towel and had to cross him in the hallway to get to it. He pushed her away from him as if she would want to be near him. As if.
When everything settled down, Mother went to iron clothes to keep herself busy while he sat us down and gave us an unnecessary lecture, trying to prove that he is a good guy. Throughout the time that words spewed out of his ugly dark soul, my mind fluttered with profanities and I prayed that God would serve justice, just this once.