• Empty Promises •

An Empty Room

"People change, Memories don't."

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The ceiling was white. Bland. Empty.

Yet, Somehow, it seemed to hold everything I knew in life.

I always ended up like this: By myself in an empty room, staring up at the ceiling, thinking about how things might have been different if my mom and dad actually loved one another. The always present smell of dry paint and dust wafts through the room; the smell of emptiness. Everything is always so empty. Each new house, each attempt at being normal, all void of hope, all empty.

It wasn't always like this. I don't think so at least. At one point we were happy. I'm not sure where or when, but in the back of mind there's a faint memory of something good. Something hopeful. Whatever it was, It's long gone now. Now, All my happiness comes and goes in short bursts and fleeting moments. Moments when my dad's at work, my mom's asleep, and there's no one but my little sisters and I. Times when there is no anger, just love.

It's them I worry about the most, my sisters. I've grown so used to the incessant screaming that echoes through the creaking walls of every house we've lived in, but they're still young. Until here lately, my two younger siblings were hidden from the truths of my family. Until recently, They were like everyone else in the world: On the outside looking into the fake perfection my family portrayed. But not anymore.

Things have escalated so drastically in the past months that it's come to a point where my parents don't care to hide the pain anymore. Lately my sisters beautiful, young smiles have faded away, and in their place is the tainted bitter looks that everyone else in this house wears so confidently. Thus, the disappearance of my last source of hope.

Summer days like this seemed endless in the worst possible way. At times, I pray that the days would drown by faster so the school year would start and bring me a break from the endless negativity. The same negativity drew me at times to think it was best to end it all. A gunshot and it would be over.

For the sake of my sisters, I never would. I was the only thing they could depend on anymore. I could never bring myself to be so selfish as that. To leave them stranded here alone. I wasn't that kind of person.

The ceiling fan roars quickly over head, trying to match the speed of my endless train of thought. A speed that the small fan would never have the capability of mastering. It seemed easier, however, to let the ceiling fan dream big. Something in this room had to.

Along with the stale taste of old coffee in my mouth, there's a continuous orange glow from the cheap florescent light overhead. Other than that, The room is just how it's always been: white, bland, empty. The room that held no purpose for anyone but me, for it held nothing other than the secrets I held in and the thoughts ill never have the courage to share.

In a moment, Everything will go quiet. The yelling down stairs will cease and a door will slam so loud that the entire house can feel the anger of the one that slams it. Then, for a brief moment, There will be peace. Peace in the chaotic place I call home. As for me, I'll still be here, just as white, bland, and empty as the room that holds me.

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