Angst

Tuesday, July 7th 2012

яαє__ℓσνєѕнαмѕтєяѕ1997 : haha! can u believe how cute these cats are :3

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3: Leave it up to Rae Thompson to completely ignore the purpose of a video.

яαє__ℓσνєѕнαмѕтєяѕ1997 : dont be such a buzzkill!!! :/

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3 : Did you finish your summer school homework? And don't be like that! I thought this friendship was about honesty and SUPPORT.

яαє__ℓσνєѕнαмѕтєяѕ1997 : if this friendship is abt honestyy then u would be telling the truth about being a b u z z k i Ll!!! and no 'dad' , I got home like 2 hours ago < — <

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3 : Ur gonna regret this Rae, you know how LONG you take to do your homework.

яαє__ℓσνєѕнαмѕтєяѕ1997 : so what??? i take my time- sue me :•3 i thought *U* were supposed to be the 15 year old genius or smth :/

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3 : If I was a genius wouldn't I take less time to do my homework? Not to mention *I* am not the one in summer school. See! This is what I'm talking about. All you do is draw day and night, and you never get your brain working like it's supposed to! Call me, I could help you.

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3 : Raeeeee? I know you're reading these messages. Call me.

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3 : Rae, please. I just really care about you! I'm not trying to be mean.

ʝσυяиєу.ѕαмιѕ¢σσℓ3 : Rae? Please answer me. :( Look I'm using your thing. Like you always tell me too. Pleaseeeee answer or call me. Don't be mad. :( :( :(

———————————————————————-

I glanced at the computer screen and rolled my eyes. Sam has the tendency to be a complete asshole sometimes. Psh. Acting like I'm not smart??? "Drawing all day and night" What is THAT supposed to mean? Him with his constant periods and commas. What a loser. Despite being quite annoyed with him, I giggled at how hard he was trying to get me to talk to him. I mean, frowny faces? So not like Sam. I stood up and walked to my wardrobe and faced my mirror. There she was, stick thin, short, Rae Thompson. I smoothed my hands down my non existent curves and looked at myself in the tight, girly, uniform that covered every inch of my body in an effort to keep the boys to 'focus' Yeah. Because we're the problem. I looked like a prude. A sweaty, gross, sexualized, prude. If Sam saw me looking at myself like this he would laugh. And then worry. Like he always does. I fumbled through my drawers throwing all sorts of clothes out of my way. Christmas Sweater- absolutely no way. It's hot as hell and I've spent this day already drenched in perspiration. And it's not even Christmas. A short sleeved top way too small for me- Wait- how did this even get here? I bought this when I was 7. Finally- a tank top- starchy blue in colour but thin in texture. Good enough. I threw on that and a pair of my most thin jeans (as if I'll be wearing shorts I got for my 11th birthday) and a pair of my most ugly mismatched socks. You see, I live just with my mother and my *pregnant* older sister. Don't ask her where her husband is. She doesn't know either. I grabbed my sketch book and my pencil set that I got for my 15th birthday, and walked down the stairs. Dishes slammed together, Princess coughed up a hairball, and my older sister, once again was crying on the couch watching Say Yes To The Dress. Typical summer day for the Thompsons. Actually, typical every day for the Thompsons. Mom yelled over the noise of our 20 year old dishwasher trying to function, (and failing, because I was always the one having to hand wash the dishes in the end.) "Rae! Could you bring Princess out for some fresh air! Don't let her paws touch the dirt, we JUST GOT A NEW CARPET!!!" My ears were basically ruptured by now. I grabbed our 16 year old cat from the couch and brought her outside in the front yard on the porch. There. Finally, the noise stopped. But only because I left the house. That's reassuring. I plopped Princess in my lap (as she once again, curled up into fetal position and slept soundly) I took out my paper and pencils that I tucked into my pants so Mom wouldn't see that I *still* haven't done my homework. Can people get off my fucking back??? Alas, I entered my happy place, I felt as the pencil sketched the idea I was thinking. It was as if I wasn't even controlling it, the pencil spoke for itself and used my hand as a puppet. The pain, the sorrow and everything else that came from this moment immobilized my thoughts of everything more. It was just me and my canvas and the tool that created all that you could imagine. It wasn't even a tool! It was some..some magical thing that possessed you into pouring your feelings into images. Maybe it was the simple but somehow intricate design of the orange outside and the messy yet sharp point? Or maybe it was how it feel so right laying in my hand, giving me the pain, the sorrow, the imagination. How can a inanimate object cause so much emotion in a basic girl like me? "RENAE THOMPSON!!!" I
could recognize that ironically deep voice anywhere. I looked up hesitantly to pearly blue eyes staring into me. Sam. Did I mention Sam was my neighbour? He had his school bag thrown over his shoulder, and was dressed in a simple t-shirt, shorts and a hat. His usual outfit. "Sam? What the hell are you doing here?" He looked at me like I was stupid. As if he already doesn't look at me like that. "Rae...I wanna help you." He walked towards me slowly, like I was a 6 year old holding a marker about to scribble on the newly painted French white walls. "Sam...I don't need your help. I'm not stupid or something." I dodged his annoying (yet caring) attempt to help me and stormed off, holding my notebook close to my chest as Sam started to talk, then stopped and sighed. I closed the door to our front yard, as I stepped in carefully, before taking my shoes off which were already covered in mud. San Francisco rain. The same simple yet chaotic day, went on as the same noise and rather annoying attempts to 'help' me carried on. Why does no one understand that I don't want nor need help?! I sat on my bed and tried to catch that idea again...and failed. Miserably. I can do this. I can- "RENAE!!! SAM FROM NEXT DOOR IS HERE TO SEE YOUUU!!!" I grunted in frustration. Something else you might not know about me, is that I have extreme problems with anger issues. I threw the notebook at the door aggressively and screamed in agony. I could hear my mother's footsteps. Oh brother. "Renae! How dare you be so rude to your friend. Slamming your books everywhere is rude and irresponsible! And...uh...irrational!!!" Mom always had troubling yelling at me because most of the time she occupied her parenting moments with work and cleaning. And...looking after Rein. Again. "Can't you see I'm busy with your sister?! Now this Sam will never want to talk to you again!" "YOU'RE ALWAYS BUSY WITH REIN!!!" The anger flushed out of me easier then it was for me to smile. Like always. Often, when this happened, my "anger attacks" mom would forget about the fight and try to calm me down. This time...she wasn't having it. "RENAE. QUIET YOUR ASS DOWN. THERE IS A YOUNG MAN WAITING DOWNSTAIRS FOR YOU WHO WANTS YOUR ATTENTION!!! PROBABLY THE ONLY MAN WHO WOULD WANT TO DATE YOU WITH THESE ANGER PROBLEMS OF YOURS!!!" The blood in my head starting to rush, and my arms and fists felt like they were going to fall off. My vision became blurred. I wanted to scream. But it was like the words struggled to come out of my mouth, let alone my mind to actually comprehend them. "I- I ALREADY TOLD YOU I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!!! AND YOURE THE ONE TRYING TO GIVE ME ADVICE WHEN DAD LEFT YOU FOR ANOTHER WOMAN!!! AND REIN IF YOU DONT STOP FUCKING CRYING IM GOING TO BREAK THE TV AND LOCK YOU IN THE BATHROOM!!!" Mom gasped in hurt and confusion. I knew I fucked up by the look in her face. Tears welled up in her eyes and she slammed the door and left my room. Shit. "Mom-" Fear. My legs unclipped suddenly, and my breathing was unsteady and shaky. Swallow, Renae. You can do it. Breathe. Speak. FUCKING SCREAM fuck fuck fuck i can't fucking move pls help me please i can't talk i can't move anything i cant see why why why cant i see please help me its closing up sopainful please helpme

...
"Okay, eyes are opening." "Can she see? Ask." "Uhm...miss can you see my fingers right now." "She can't talk dimwits. Hey sweetie? If you can hear me, we will help you okay?" "Eyes are closing again. Make sure the breathing pumps are working." "Yeah and..."

...
"EYES ARE OPENING AGAIN!" "Good, good, good, should we see if she can talk now?" "Focus on the breathing and working of the body. You two are too eager. Give her space." "Guys, the family is asking if they can see her." "No, absolutely not. She can hardly function yet. The only thing we know is that her eyes can open." "Doesn't that mean she can see now? And that the basic stuff is working again?" "How the hell did you pass med school, Rob?" "I...I don't know okay-"

...

"Hey honey...it's mommy. I'm sorry my angel."

...
"Uhm...day 27 of her being hospitalized, so far we got through to seeing and movement of the lips and up." "Good. And the next move?"
"I...well we were thinking maybe psychical therapy and seeing her family members will maybe triggering some speaking or just thinking..."

...
"So...what do I do? Just read to her? And that'll make her think and speak again?" "Not exactly, Sam. Just read favourite books and some literature that's familiar to her." "O-Okay. Uhm...can she hear me?" "Yes, our research has shown that she has developed into hearing again shortly after she was hospitalized. After the panic attack and then shortly after stroke, it affected the left side of the cerebrum which affects sensations and difficulties controlling along the right side of her body. And it also affects speaking and writing and reading and-" "What...What...What about drawing?" "I...I'm not sure, son."

...
"Ugh, you have no idea how boring it is for you to be sick like this. I want you to whine in my ear again! Plus, Venus is super annoying now that you aren't here to talk to us. What the hell did you guys do in your free time? Always cuddling and shit, I swear she's always trying to cuddle with ME and I am not your substitute-"

...
"Day 56 of hospitalization, nothing has really changed-" "Wait. Look. She's moving her head!!! AND HER LIPS!!!" "Honey??? Renae, if you can hear me, I'm sorry and please if you can..."

"Speak."