Day 6
I was awoken by the tasty smell of French toast. I knew what they were up to. They were going to lure me out with my weakness, food. I will wait until I know that they are gone, and then I'll sneak out, and get the goods. I know there is a catch to it though. They probably won't put any syrup on it, so I'll have to go downstairs where they will be waiting. They will then confront me, give me a serious beating and then send me on my way. The only thing that I have a problem with is the fact that it'll all be "alright" after they punish me. That is what makes me so rebellious, the fact that they done' fix their mistakes. Well, I guess it is mistake, because that is the only thing that they have done wrong with me, they don't listen.
I get the goods, I was wrong though; they put syrup on the tray, plenty of napkins, and ever strawberries. They're up to something. I'll get halfway through the strawberries and BAM! They'll hit me with a severe punishment. "Enjoy your strawberries in SOLITARY CONFINEMENT!" I can hear them now.
(~~~~( It's been awhile, and nothing has happened. I finished my design, homework, and I reorganized my closet. I'm starting on putting my jeans in order by brand name and when I got them. If someone doesn't stop me I'll go through me whole room with a label maker. Oh no, that won't be pretty; trust me.
"McKenzie, honey, we want to talk to you," I recognize the voice, but I chose not to remember the face.
I'm silent; I don't want them to smell my fear. I think that this situation will end in a severe rear blistering, and my mom in tears. Well, I don't know about the rear blistering. Tears, though, will result. I know that I won't be able to control myself if I open that door.
"Fine, if you won't let us come in, then we'll talk to you through the door," my dad tries to reassure himself.
"What you said yesterday was uncalled for; I think that you owe me an apology. I also think that you need to see things from your parent's point of view. We can't always make the funniest decision or the one with the most perks. We try to make them for you, I know you don't understand, your brain might be a little feeble at the moment, but trust us on this one," Mom is trying the same old trick, and I'm not going to budge. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!
"Hon, your mother and I love you very much; we want you to have the best opportunities. If that means that you are away from your friends, but you are more ahead in the work force, then we are going to do what we have to." Don't play that card again, Dad.
Why am I doing this? I want to stand for what I believe, but I can't. They are posing all of these points that I know are true. I can't just deny making them happy. I got these feelings off my chest though. I feel better, but worse. I can't decide if I should be mad or, feel sorry for them. I mean they are the ones that are at their daughter's door, begging her to come out. I realized that I now have the upper hand in this. I think that it will all be given up though if Mom starts to cry. I am a sucker for criers.
She did! She played the crier in our little play, and just like in the scrip I forgave her, and apologized. The Director yelled cut, and we braked for pasta and meatballs. I don't like being this marionette; it makes me feel so stupid. When I make a statement, the stings are pulled, and I bow to the higher power. I wish Dad would get some scissors and cut me down; the air up here is a little nasty.
The rest of the day we just acted as a family. Yeah right. Dad's little painted on smile, and Mom's perfectly ironed clothes. "How are they so neat?" they'll ask. Mom will smile a cheesy smile and say "I iron them every night!" Welcome to the 21st century where ironing is now called dry cleaning. Then we played some cards, Mom laughing a polyester laugh and letting me win. Dad still with that absurd grin. I'll give you something to grin about.
I was awoken by the tasty smell of French toast. I knew what they were up to. They were going to lure me out with my weakness, food. I will wait until I know that they are gone, and then I'll sneak out, and get the goods. I know there is a catch to it though. They probably won't put any syrup on it, so I'll have to go downstairs where they will be waiting. They will then confront me, give me a serious beating and then send me on my way. The only thing that I have a problem with is the fact that it'll all be "alright" after they punish me. That is what makes me so rebellious, the fact that they done' fix their mistakes. Well, I guess it is mistake, because that is the only thing that they have done wrong with me, they don't listen.
I get the goods, I was wrong though; they put syrup on the tray, plenty of napkins, and ever strawberries. They're up to something. I'll get halfway through the strawberries and BAM! They'll hit me with a severe punishment. "Enjoy your strawberries in SOLITARY CONFINEMENT!" I can hear them now.
(~~~~( It's been awhile, and nothing has happened. I finished my design, homework, and I reorganized my closet. I'm starting on putting my jeans in order by brand name and when I got them. If someone doesn't stop me I'll go through me whole room with a label maker. Oh no, that won't be pretty; trust me.
"McKenzie, honey, we want to talk to you," I recognize the voice, but I chose not to remember the face.
I'm silent; I don't want them to smell my fear. I think that this situation will end in a severe rear blistering, and my mom in tears. Well, I don't know about the rear blistering. Tears, though, will result. I know that I won't be able to control myself if I open that door.
"Fine, if you won't let us come in, then we'll talk to you through the door," my dad tries to reassure himself.
"What you said yesterday was uncalled for; I think that you owe me an apology. I also think that you need to see things from your parent's point of view. We can't always make the funniest decision or the one with the most perks. We try to make them for you, I know you don't understand, your brain might be a little feeble at the moment, but trust us on this one," Mom is trying the same old trick, and I'm not going to budge. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!
"Hon, your mother and I love you very much; we want you to have the best opportunities. If that means that you are away from your friends, but you are more ahead in the work force, then we are going to do what we have to." Don't play that card again, Dad.
Why am I doing this? I want to stand for what I believe, but I can't. They are posing all of these points that I know are true. I can't just deny making them happy. I got these feelings off my chest though. I feel better, but worse. I can't decide if I should be mad or, feel sorry for them. I mean they are the ones that are at their daughter's door, begging her to come out. I realized that I now have the upper hand in this. I think that it will all be given up though if Mom starts to cry. I am a sucker for criers.
She did! She played the crier in our little play, and just like in the scrip I forgave her, and apologized. The Director yelled cut, and we braked for pasta and meatballs. I don't like being this marionette; it makes me feel so stupid. When I make a statement, the stings are pulled, and I bow to the higher power. I wish Dad would get some scissors and cut me down; the air up here is a little nasty.
The rest of the day we just acted as a family. Yeah right. Dad's little painted on smile, and Mom's perfectly ironed clothes. "How are they so neat?" they'll ask. Mom will smile a cheesy smile and say "I iron them every night!" Welcome to the 21st century where ironing is now called dry cleaning. Then we played some cards, Mom laughing a polyester laugh and letting me win. Dad still with that absurd grin. I'll give you something to grin about.