Depths of a Likely Innocent Mind

...I Love You...

“Why would you do this?”

A question that yet again has no answer.

“What do you not understand about the rules?”

Why they’re so strict and harsh.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Everything apparently

“Am I that screwed up of a parent?”

Yes. Yes, you are.

“What is it that’s broken; I want to know.”

I want to know… have you ever seen the rain?

“What is it that’s making you behave this way? Why are you being so rebellious?”

You want to know what’s broken? What’s wrong with me? You’re not going to like it…

“Answer me!”

But if I do, I’ll only be shot down again. You’ll only tell me how I’m wrong and I’m right and how it’s always going to be like that no matter what happens.

“Tell me what you want from me as a parent.”

What I want? What I want? You want to know? Do you really?

“SPEAK!”

Your choices. Your lack of parenting ability. That’s what’s wrong. You are overprotective. You do not care what I want unless it’s the same as what you want. You want me to go and have friends but you won’t even let me have contact with them outside of school. Heck, you freak out every time I want to hang out with the male ones because you don’t trust them. Just because you were a bad child when you were in High School doesn’t mean they are. Everyone’s different.

“What’s the matter, say something!”

If I don’t get straight A’s you punish me (in more ways than you should be punishing me) until I’m absolutely perfect in your eyes. Well, maybe I don’t want to be perfect. Maybe I can’t be perfect. Maybe I can’t be what you want me to be because I want to be a different me.

“If you don’t start talking in the next ten seconds…”

You know what else is wrong? I’ve been ignored in the “mommy department.” I miss my mother. I mean my real mother. Not the impostor we have now. I want to see her again. Yeah, I know she may be addicted to drugs and stuff. Yeah I know she stole a few things from us when she lived with us a long time ago. Yeah I know you kicked her out to protect me and my sister from her addiction. But I still want her here to be my shoulder to cry on that she used to be; that you rarely are.

“One…”

Another thing. You’ve tried so hard to find another wife to replace mommy that it has ruined any good image of a mother that I had. You went through one, two, three, four, girlfriends that I know of, and one, two, wives before the third one you have now.

“…two…”

As you went, you slowly added the number of kids you had to take care of besides the original two. Now I have become one of seven children. Seven. Might I add that I am no longer the oldest? I have lost my role in the family. I used to be an important part of the small family that we had. Now I’m just one of “the kids.”

“…three…”

When we first met the woman I now call my mother, she seemed nice. Seemed. But I never saw why you liked her so much, let alone why you loved her. All I knew was that you both were in love with each other. I saw that you were so willing to sacrifice all of your time to help her fight away her ex that still is absolutely relentless. I cared about you so much that I was willing to put up with her so you could be happy. I never really liked her; in fact, I hate her. Her and her four kids. But you clearly loved her. I didn’t want to ruin it for so I sat through the wedding with the fake smile that always made you happy to see.

“…four…”

Even now I’m still using that smile. I’m only ever nice to her so you can see her happy. Al of the small fits of me talking back to her and me being disrespectful to her are just tiny little emotions that slipped out through the cracks of the mask I put on for you. But the mask is breaking and falling apart, just like the family is. I try constantly to glue it back together so everyone’s happy, but he more hatred and sadness I hide inside, the more the pressure builds, and the more pieces break and fall off.

“…five…”

I won’t be able to hold it in forever, Dad. I don’t hate you; In fact, it’s the exact opposite. You’re just going about this whole parenting thing the wrong way. I wish I could tell you all of this but you’re not the kind of person who listens to others, and it’s not your fault. But it’s alright… I only have to do this for a couple more years, and then I can move out and live a different life without having to hold back and bite my tongue because I’m going to spend it with someone who’s willing to listen to me.

“…six…”

Like I said before, it’s not your fault. I can’t help it if you decided to take on the responsibility of having kids. I can’t help it if you fell in love with someone I don’t approve of. But I don’t want to be the one that stands in your way, because I believe that if you love someone, you should be able to love them without others trying to stop you, or condemn you for it, which is another reason I could never tell you about the person I love. You wouldn’t understand. You are always judging the people I hang out with because they look funny. You are always trying o stop me from dating because you don’t trust boys my age. You would ridicule me for my “choice.” I don’t think I’d be able to hide any more anger inside if you knew about my current relationship status.

“…seven…”

I’m sorry I can’t tell you how I feel. Why can’t I? Because I don’t want to see you hurt.

“…eight…”

I just hope you’ll be able to listen to the three little words that’ll once again mean nothing to you because it’s just a routine.

“…nine…”

“I love you.”

“…ten.”

I want to know… have you ever seen the rain?