LW&W (12.20.04)
There are a lot of ways to look at it, but I can't find any of them. I'm sure it is just me being weird Amber, that is all the problem is. Probably, there are all kinds of normal reality going on around me, right here where I'm at, but because I am weird, I can't find one. I can't find the normalness. I don't understand how I am weird--I mean, what I am doing wrong that makes me not see the normal part of life, but I do know that it is true that I am weird. My sister would never be in this doorway in her pajamas with Roger with his thing out. It would never occur to him or anyone that my sister would want to see dirty cards and stuff. It is something about me, but I guess I am so rebellious that I even am rebelious against myself and can't see it.
"What're you doing, Am? Come on; it's your turn."
He has rolled to his back when he said this. He is on his back, on the floor in front of the couch, propped with his elbows behind him. He is looking at me, come on, looking at me with the sloppy happy eyes. And his robe of course it is still open, and now there it is, I can see it. I want to be dead. Please God, I want to be dead because I don't know what to do. The smoke is around his head and he is staying on his back and I am supposed to go back over there and get on the couch. My head hurts from the drink and I know he's going to want me to smoke pot with him. I can tell how it is going now. He thinks I am having fun and am his buddy and I don't understand the open robe part, but he thinks we are having a great time together, and who am I to tell him that I am not not not having a great time. I've let it go this far. What is wrong with me? Why have I done this? Do I secretly like it? Am I secretly happy that the cards with the pornography are out, or that his robe is open, even? No no no no no. And even just one 'no' would be fine, because it is the truth and I can tell. Nobody would ever believe me, since I let this happen, but I know it is the truth that I would give anything in the world to make this all go away. There is no secret fun going on. Like Theresa, she would probably maybe have some secret fun. I don't know about the open robe part, but she is not scared when the people she babysits for give us drinks and pass the joint. I hate it, but she does not, I can tell. I fake the pot, but Theresa breathes it in and she has a lot of fun laughing after that. Man, her eyes get so red. But me, I just get paranoid and want it to end and then I go lay down in a bedroom under coats but sometimes they find you there. I do not want to be found and I do not want to be here. I am so sorry, God, people, devil anyone, that I made you think I wanted this, but I don't. If I seemed like I did, I'm sorry, but I was faking it, whatever you saw out of me. I honest-to-god thought I only wanted to watch The Lion The Witch and Wardrobe and sleep on the couch (I like to sleep on couches because I never get to at home, not even lay down on it). I swear to you, I really wanted to drink the chocolate milk and wear my pajamas and watch the show all by myself and then call my mom, and maybe sneak and try to wait up for Sue (but pretend I was sleeping; I can read to very faint light if I have to). And in the morning I would hang out with Sue and the babies and then my mom would come out around lunch to pick me, hopefully without Nick, and she would be the fun, normal mom and we'd hang out at Sue's for a little while and crack jokes and be relaxed. I never see my mom relaxed very much anymore; she is too into managing Nick's hate for me all the time, and the things I am doing to set off his rage (like breathe, for example, and that is not a joke; he does not like how I breathe. I never noticed before how I breathed, but now I am always controlling it, making my lungs go big and not my stomach because it reduces the noise). Those were all the things on my mind about this. Not even Jeff, because he is going to Ohio this week and won't be around, so he was not even on my mind. And Jeff breaks up with me all the time because I won't kiss him; right? So how can I be so crazy that I also give off the idea that I'd want to look at naked stuff? I swear to god, it is not me, this person who seems to be existing right now in the house. I want out of this.
But I am still standing in the doorway and it is time to move my feet. I have to get across the room, toward the Roger on his back with his robe open, and get to the couch where my blankies and comic books are (my mom got me a Richie Rich and Archie for the sleepover). I will have to get around him somehow now. His feet are stretched to the end of the couch almost. There is only like a little room between him and couch, about one foot or maybe two, I'd say. Now that he is on his back, he is as long as the couch. I am going to have to climb over him, or else wedge my way along the aisle part between the couch and his legs. His legs are naked, by the way. I can't see properly. The darkness that has come around in there, and also my head is like disintegrating. I don't even mind; go ahead, head, disintegrate. Maybe I will have a flashback from the mesc with Theresa and just pass out or something.
I cannot step over that part of him. I cannot wedge along side of it. I am growing old in the doorway to the living room.
Where did this music come from? Where did the TV noise go? There is no sound from the TV, only a preacher-looking newscaster talking (Bill Bonds; my mom says he looks like my dad, and I can tell she does not mean it in a nice way). Where is the music? Everything seems red in here now. The music is red. The light is smokey and red. The air is wavy. Something is going on and I am drowning.
"Come on, Am. You don't have to play again if you don't want. We can do something else."
"What're you doing, Am? Come on; it's your turn."
He has rolled to his back when he said this. He is on his back, on the floor in front of the couch, propped with his elbows behind him. He is looking at me, come on, looking at me with the sloppy happy eyes. And his robe of course it is still open, and now there it is, I can see it. I want to be dead. Please God, I want to be dead because I don't know what to do. The smoke is around his head and he is staying on his back and I am supposed to go back over there and get on the couch. My head hurts from the drink and I know he's going to want me to smoke pot with him. I can tell how it is going now. He thinks I am having fun and am his buddy and I don't understand the open robe part, but he thinks we are having a great time together, and who am I to tell him that I am not not not having a great time. I've let it go this far. What is wrong with me? Why have I done this? Do I secretly like it? Am I secretly happy that the cards with the pornography are out, or that his robe is open, even? No no no no no. And even just one 'no' would be fine, because it is the truth and I can tell. Nobody would ever believe me, since I let this happen, but I know it is the truth that I would give anything in the world to make this all go away. There is no secret fun going on. Like Theresa, she would probably maybe have some secret fun. I don't know about the open robe part, but she is not scared when the people she babysits for give us drinks and pass the joint. I hate it, but she does not, I can tell. I fake the pot, but Theresa breathes it in and she has a lot of fun laughing after that. Man, her eyes get so red. But me, I just get paranoid and want it to end and then I go lay down in a bedroom under coats but sometimes they find you there. I do not want to be found and I do not want to be here. I am so sorry, God, people, devil anyone, that I made you think I wanted this, but I don't. If I seemed like I did, I'm sorry, but I was faking it, whatever you saw out of me. I honest-to-god thought I only wanted to watch The Lion The Witch and Wardrobe and sleep on the couch (I like to sleep on couches because I never get to at home, not even lay down on it). I swear to you, I really wanted to drink the chocolate milk and wear my pajamas and watch the show all by myself and then call my mom, and maybe sneak and try to wait up for Sue (but pretend I was sleeping; I can read to very faint light if I have to). And in the morning I would hang out with Sue and the babies and then my mom would come out around lunch to pick me, hopefully without Nick, and she would be the fun, normal mom and we'd hang out at Sue's for a little while and crack jokes and be relaxed. I never see my mom relaxed very much anymore; she is too into managing Nick's hate for me all the time, and the things I am doing to set off his rage (like breathe, for example, and that is not a joke; he does not like how I breathe. I never noticed before how I breathed, but now I am always controlling it, making my lungs go big and not my stomach because it reduces the noise). Those were all the things on my mind about this. Not even Jeff, because he is going to Ohio this week and won't be around, so he was not even on my mind. And Jeff breaks up with me all the time because I won't kiss him; right? So how can I be so crazy that I also give off the idea that I'd want to look at naked stuff? I swear to god, it is not me, this person who seems to be existing right now in the house. I want out of this.
But I am still standing in the doorway and it is time to move my feet. I have to get across the room, toward the Roger on his back with his robe open, and get to the couch where my blankies and comic books are (my mom got me a Richie Rich and Archie for the sleepover). I will have to get around him somehow now. His feet are stretched to the end of the couch almost. There is only like a little room between him and couch, about one foot or maybe two, I'd say. Now that he is on his back, he is as long as the couch. I am going to have to climb over him, or else wedge my way along the aisle part between the couch and his legs. His legs are naked, by the way. I can't see properly. The darkness that has come around in there, and also my head is like disintegrating. I don't even mind; go ahead, head, disintegrate. Maybe I will have a flashback from the mesc with Theresa and just pass out or something.
I cannot step over that part of him. I cannot wedge along side of it. I am growing old in the doorway to the living room.
Where did this music come from? Where did the TV noise go? There is no sound from the TV, only a preacher-looking newscaster talking (Bill Bonds; my mom says he looks like my dad, and I can tell she does not mean it in a nice way). Where is the music? Everything seems red in here now. The music is red. The light is smokey and red. The air is wavy. Something is going on and I am drowning.
"Come on, Am. You don't have to play again if you don't want. We can do something else."
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