Hey.
I need to talk to you about something. I know I haven't talked to you since you…left. I know, I know, I should have. Don't bug me about it. It's hard to come here, especially when things are as bad as they are now.
Being nice is hard to do, you know.
It's hard to be nice to the kid in the corner who picks his nose and eats it. It's hard to be nice to a father who doesn't give a shit about you. It's hard to be nice to a sibling who is convinced your teacher is a man-eating slug demon. It's hard to be nice to the weird kid on the block.
You acted like it wasn't hard. It wasn't hard to love HIM for you. He was inattentive and never home, but you didn't hate him for it. You just kept on smiling, ever-smiling, and sometimes I wondered if you were pretending or if you really were happy.
There are so many people just like me, as much as I hate to admit it. I kind of pride myself on being an individual, if I have any pride in me left. But when I really think about it, I'm no different from Mary or Torque Smacky from school. They all go the easy way out. They don't try to be nice. They take the easy road and hate people like Dib and Zim. I hate them like other kids do.
I know, I know. I must love Dib deep down. But I don't. Can't you see that? I hate everything about him. And Dad's no better.
Yes. I hate HIM as well.
He doesn't give a damn about me or Dib. He didn't give a damn about you, either, y'know. You probably thought he cried at your funeral, didn't you? He didn't. I was there. I spoke there. I couldn't reach the podium, I was too small.
He didn't cry for you. His voice didn't quaver once. He was still speaking like a scientist and explaining your life as if you were a newly-discovered animal species that he didn't care about or wasn't interested in. He drolled about you.
He didn't give a shit about you. He still doesn't. All he cares about is his fucking experiments and getting his goddamn time in the spotlight.
Don't scold me for cursing. I've thirteen years old and I live with a nutso brother and a father who would use me for experiments if I agreed. What the hell did you expect? Did you want me to be selling Girl Scout cookies and smiling and batting my eyelashes at boys?
Fuck you.
I'm sorry. I came here to talk to you, didn't I? You didn't drag me here. I wish I could blame you for this, but I can't.
I blame you for all kinds of shit. I blamed you when you died. It was your own fucking fault, getting so drunk. What, you didn't give a shit enough to call home? Dad's a bastard, but he'd still come pick you up and give you a ride. You didn't have to go and get rammed by a truck.
You were a fucking idiot.
You know what? I used to think you were the smartest person on the planet. I thought that no matter what, you'd be there to answer questions for me. When you gave me my skull amulet, you said that if anything ever happened to you, if I whispered my problems to it, you'd hear me.
Thanks a fucking bunch. You know what Dad did when he saw me whispering to a SKULL? He got me a shrink and suggested that I enter psychotherapy.
But you know he's like that, don't you? Of course you do.
I also used to think that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Ha, that's funny. The only thing I can remember is you all sliced up in a body bag, and they still hadn't taken the shards of glass from the windshield out of you.
It's not a pretty picture.
Zim attacked Dib today, you know. Yeah, Zim--the alien Dib's fighting against. Oh, you know--yeah, I guess Dib must have come here a gazillion times before to talk to you, even if you can't hear you. He talks to a fucking slab of rock with your name on it, and he thinks he's talking to you.
Oh, God, maybe I'm going insane like Dib. I think I'll have to kill myself if I am. I CANNOT be like Dib. Never, ever, ever.
Anyway, Zim attacked Dib today. Dib's a shitty fighter. He's fifteen now, y'know. He's still a gangly, pale mess, with crazy ideas and crazy hair. Zim's shorter than him, for Christ's sake, and still Dib managed to come home with a cut lip and a black eye and broken glasses. I saw Zim get off his bus. He was completely unscathed.
I think Zim might be losing it. Violence really isn't in his pattern. He tries to wreck havoc, but deep down he really doesn't want to destroy this world. If he "conquers" it or whatever, where will he go then?
If he finally kills Dib, he won't have anything to do. All he wants is to play Cat and Mouse, and that's all he'll do. Dib is harmless-he'll never do anything important.
Being nice is hard to do.
So why were you so nice?
I never remember you complaining. When I dream about you, you're always bright and smiling. You had hair like mine, and eyes like Dib's. Pretty, amber colored eyes. I'm sure HE used to get lost in them, before he got so obsessed with his work.
But you're ever-smiling in my dreams. I know that's not how you really felt. It was all an act, and you know it as well as I do. I used to want to go snuggle with you and Dad late at night, sometimes even early morning, and I heard you sobbing. Sometimes HE would be awake and yelling. Other times it would just be you, weeping over an open shoebox.
I remember it was a Payless box. I tried to find it once. I did, but I was still tiny, and I couldn't reach it on top of your dresser.
What was in that shoebox? An old boyfriend? An old life?
Why was your life with us so fake? Why couldn't you just be real? Why did you have to mask every single emotion that flew in your brain with a permanent smile?
Dammit, YOU took the easy road out. You were too freaked out to show what the fuck you were feeling. Why the HELL didn't you try to do things the hard way? Why'd you have to be such a fucking slacker and hide all your feelings? It never paid off. It's a bad thing you did.
Because you know what that taught me?
It taught ME to take the easy way out. I fucking admired you, and I thought that was what I was supposed to do.
It's your fault I am the way I am.
What am I?
I am a stupid Goth with no friends and no life. I hate everyone and everything.
Are you happy with what you created?
I'm not going to be like you. I'll never be like you again.
Being nice is hard to do.
But Mom, I'm gonna try.
END
I need to talk to you about something. I know I haven't talked to you since you…left. I know, I know, I should have. Don't bug me about it. It's hard to come here, especially when things are as bad as they are now.
Being nice is hard to do, you know.
It's hard to be nice to the kid in the corner who picks his nose and eats it. It's hard to be nice to a father who doesn't give a shit about you. It's hard to be nice to a sibling who is convinced your teacher is a man-eating slug demon. It's hard to be nice to the weird kid on the block.
You acted like it wasn't hard. It wasn't hard to love HIM for you. He was inattentive and never home, but you didn't hate him for it. You just kept on smiling, ever-smiling, and sometimes I wondered if you were pretending or if you really were happy.
There are so many people just like me, as much as I hate to admit it. I kind of pride myself on being an individual, if I have any pride in me left. But when I really think about it, I'm no different from Mary or Torque Smacky from school. They all go the easy way out. They don't try to be nice. They take the easy road and hate people like Dib and Zim. I hate them like other kids do.
I know, I know. I must love Dib deep down. But I don't. Can't you see that? I hate everything about him. And Dad's no better.
Yes. I hate HIM as well.
He doesn't give a damn about me or Dib. He didn't give a damn about you, either, y'know. You probably thought he cried at your funeral, didn't you? He didn't. I was there. I spoke there. I couldn't reach the podium, I was too small.
He didn't cry for you. His voice didn't quaver once. He was still speaking like a scientist and explaining your life as if you were a newly-discovered animal species that he didn't care about or wasn't interested in. He drolled about you.
He didn't give a shit about you. He still doesn't. All he cares about is his fucking experiments and getting his goddamn time in the spotlight.
Don't scold me for cursing. I've thirteen years old and I live with a nutso brother and a father who would use me for experiments if I agreed. What the hell did you expect? Did you want me to be selling Girl Scout cookies and smiling and batting my eyelashes at boys?
Fuck you.
I'm sorry. I came here to talk to you, didn't I? You didn't drag me here. I wish I could blame you for this, but I can't.
I blame you for all kinds of shit. I blamed you when you died. It was your own fucking fault, getting so drunk. What, you didn't give a shit enough to call home? Dad's a bastard, but he'd still come pick you up and give you a ride. You didn't have to go and get rammed by a truck.
You were a fucking idiot.
You know what? I used to think you were the smartest person on the planet. I thought that no matter what, you'd be there to answer questions for me. When you gave me my skull amulet, you said that if anything ever happened to you, if I whispered my problems to it, you'd hear me.
Thanks a fucking bunch. You know what Dad did when he saw me whispering to a SKULL? He got me a shrink and suggested that I enter psychotherapy.
But you know he's like that, don't you? Of course you do.
I also used to think that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Ha, that's funny. The only thing I can remember is you all sliced up in a body bag, and they still hadn't taken the shards of glass from the windshield out of you.
It's not a pretty picture.
Zim attacked Dib today, you know. Yeah, Zim--the alien Dib's fighting against. Oh, you know--yeah, I guess Dib must have come here a gazillion times before to talk to you, even if you can't hear you. He talks to a fucking slab of rock with your name on it, and he thinks he's talking to you.
Oh, God, maybe I'm going insane like Dib. I think I'll have to kill myself if I am. I CANNOT be like Dib. Never, ever, ever.
Anyway, Zim attacked Dib today. Dib's a shitty fighter. He's fifteen now, y'know. He's still a gangly, pale mess, with crazy ideas and crazy hair. Zim's shorter than him, for Christ's sake, and still Dib managed to come home with a cut lip and a black eye and broken glasses. I saw Zim get off his bus. He was completely unscathed.
I think Zim might be losing it. Violence really isn't in his pattern. He tries to wreck havoc, but deep down he really doesn't want to destroy this world. If he "conquers" it or whatever, where will he go then?
If he finally kills Dib, he won't have anything to do. All he wants is to play Cat and Mouse, and that's all he'll do. Dib is harmless-he'll never do anything important.
Being nice is hard to do.
So why were you so nice?
I never remember you complaining. When I dream about you, you're always bright and smiling. You had hair like mine, and eyes like Dib's. Pretty, amber colored eyes. I'm sure HE used to get lost in them, before he got so obsessed with his work.
But you're ever-smiling in my dreams. I know that's not how you really felt. It was all an act, and you know it as well as I do. I used to want to go snuggle with you and Dad late at night, sometimes even early morning, and I heard you sobbing. Sometimes HE would be awake and yelling. Other times it would just be you, weeping over an open shoebox.
I remember it was a Payless box. I tried to find it once. I did, but I was still tiny, and I couldn't reach it on top of your dresser.
What was in that shoebox? An old boyfriend? An old life?
Why was your life with us so fake? Why couldn't you just be real? Why did you have to mask every single emotion that flew in your brain with a permanent smile?
Dammit, YOU took the easy road out. You were too freaked out to show what the fuck you were feeling. Why the HELL didn't you try to do things the hard way? Why'd you have to be such a fucking slacker and hide all your feelings? It never paid off. It's a bad thing you did.
Because you know what that taught me?
It taught ME to take the easy way out. I fucking admired you, and I thought that was what I was supposed to do.
It's your fault I am the way I am.
What am I?
I am a stupid Goth with no friends and no life. I hate everyone and everything.
Are you happy with what you created?
I'm not going to be like you. I'll never be like you again.
Being nice is hard to do.
But Mom, I'm gonna try.
END