I can hear my mother scream downstairs. My father calls her a bitch, my mother calls him an asshole.
It doesn't end.
The constant screams, the shattering of objects, and then the 's the worst part. Cause when the silence hits, it feels like the whole house is empty. Like the house is filled with silence. When the silence hits, I go downstairs and inspect the damage. I float over the broken glass, ripped photos, and tipped over furniture. I notice there are a couple of new holes in the walls. My father must have been really upset. It was probably over some really stupid shit too, like my mom talking to boss or something. My father was insecure, but he didn't want anyone to know it.
But we all knew he was.
My mother was too, but she was a girl, so it was easier for her to express her feelings.
The thing was, when my parents fought, it didn't make any sense. They always threatened to leave each other, but never would. I would save me so much if they did. Get their fighting the fuck over with and make my life easier.
Or would it? I thought about them laving and there finally having peace. I think there's some sick part of me that enjoys the chaos, depression, and loneliness. I enjoy the pain. I know that would make me crazy, but I'm not the only one that feels like that.
Maybe that's why my parents are still together. They enjoy breaking things and cursing each other. It was some kinda crazy, psycho, screwed-up love of theirs.
And I was on the ride with them.
I floated upstairs to my room, know exactly what I was gonna do next. I pulled out the blade from under my bed and punctured the skin on my wrist. I dragged the blade through my skin, watching the blood drip from my arm. My parents didn't know I did this. They barley even noticed I was there. They knew I existed, but they didn't have much to do with me. That's how my life was though, but I was content with it. I didn't mind that my life was this way. I wrapped my arm up in a band-aid and climbed into bed, reminiscing the events of the day. I know it'll happen again tomorrow, that's how my life is.
They say insanity is doing the same thing over an over, but expecting a different outcome each time.
Does that make me sane?