Jaded
The Truth of the Heart
"How did you find out I got fired?"
"I thought we could sort some things out so after work I thought I'd give you a ride home. When I went in to get you John told me what happened!" she said waving her arms around like a baboon.
"Good job Sam! When is this going to end? I mean I just don't know what to do anymore!" she paused for a moment and I knew it was coming, the ever predictable assumption. It's kind of like how when you watch horror movies and you watch the slutty clueless girl goes out into the tool shed to find her boyfriend who never came back from getting a can of beer just moments after they just had hours of erotic sex and your just sitting there yelling at the screen "You dumb bitch!". Then your sitting there questioning why the hell the tool shed would be her first choice to look at three o'clock in the fucking morning.
"Your going to be just like your sister, I just know it!" she said slamming her fist against the wall.
"Your going to drop out of high school, tell me to fuck off, and get pregnant. I just know it! " she said melodramatically.
"Mom she poured coffee on me! Hot fucking coffee too!"
"I don't give a shit. I mean school called today and your flunking Anatomy and Geometry. You've gotten yourself into another fight. I mean what happened? Don't you still want to go to UC Berkeley and be music journalist? Or go to the Art Institute in San Francisco? I mean this is your senior year and I just...I just don't know what to do anymore! Also, watch your language I'm tired of hearing those four letter words out of your mouth!" she snarled as she turned back around to face me.
"Mom ever since dad died-"
"I don't want to hear anything on your dad!" she yelled "He has nothing to do with this!" That was definitely the wrong move to make mentioning my Dad. Seriously striking my Dad up in a conversation is like burning a church down in front of the minister.
"You know what mom, no lets talk about dad," I began in that snotty "I'm going to tell you how it really is" type of tone teenagers use.
"No one else has the guts to tell you this so I will. You just can't face the fact that Dad is dead, gone, he's not coming back. It's not like not talking about him is going to make him come back. I've accepted the fact that he's never coming back and if you'd get your head out of your butt no wait excuse my "four letter word" ass, and accept the fact you could focus all your energy at something else. Not ridiculing me and feeling sorry for yourself. He's been gone for almost three years now it's time to move on! Also, I'm not Amanda so stop making me pay for where she screwed up. Just because I don't want a 9 to 5 job doesn't mean I'm going to be a failure and you should know that! If you have a problem with how Amanda turned out then take it up with Amanda leave me out of it!"
"Samantha-"
"No I'm done with this!" I said storming out the room. I could feel me leaving a trail of rage behind. I slammed my door behind me and turned Social Distortion on the turn table of my record player.
Mom and I weren't always like this. Before everything happened we used to be pretty close. After that she went into a bit of depression, which I understood I mean she lost her husband. It got to the point where she quite her job and I got a job to help pay bills, because she was incapable of it. I felt I had to stay strong to keep us together. It got to the point where she would take some pills with a large glass of bourbon. Then she'd fall asleep and awake with a throbbing headache and on occasions would throw up, but she repeated this schedule daily for about a year. I mean at that time I could relate wanting to run away from my problem, but to me that wasn't the most logical method for me.
Anyway, after a while I had enough and all the rage I had bottled up for months went off, and we've never been the same since. Mom eventually got a job and I became the bitter nasty teenager.
The thing I was getting to earlier in the argument was that ever since my Dad died I felt that creating music was my way to keep him alive in me. He always told me I had talent when it came to singing and playing guitar, and just after he died instead of mourning I focused all my energy in the direction of making music for him. I started a solo career and then got into a few bands and have been in the She He He's for a little over a year now. Music just felt as if it was my passion it just feels right every time I'm up on stage playing it. That's another thing Billie and I relate to in the sense that it was how we managed the loss of our fathers.
I think the fact that bothered my mom the most was that at my dad's funeral I didn't cry or show any form of sorrow, that's just how I am. I think maybe I've cried maybe three times out of my life. They were probably when I was a baby or something too. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but really at the funeral I felt disorientated and light-headed. My heart felt as heavy as a ton of bricks and my stomach felt like it was recovering from a three-hundred pound man pulverizing it. In all honesty I still get that feeling when I think about my dad.
I think also my dad's death made me a stronger person. Maybe that's the positive thing that came out of it. Also, though it made me an angsty, stubborn, cold-hearted person who won't let anyone get close to me.
I threw everything off my bed turned off the light and stared out my window at the moonlight bathing in on me. I made a feeble attempt at falling asleep with my mind stuck in abyss of thoughts. Maybe mom was right maybe I won't amount to anything, or maybe I could prove her wrong...
I reached for my notebook on my bedside table and took out a flashlight and began writing lyrics to a possible new song. I was infamous for starting numerous songs without completing them.
Tossing and turning I can't go to bed
Reminders of you start to dance in my head
Spinning around my thoughts cant touch the ground
Because of this misunderstanding you’ve found
Oh how you lie
More then a thousand times
Cares are running wild in the storm
Lost in your world
You've become bored with yourself
So you'll beat what ever is left on the shelf
Trying to embrace what you don't have in yourself
"I thought we could sort some things out so after work I thought I'd give you a ride home. When I went in to get you John told me what happened!" she said waving her arms around like a baboon.
"Good job Sam! When is this going to end? I mean I just don't know what to do anymore!" she paused for a moment and I knew it was coming, the ever predictable assumption. It's kind of like how when you watch horror movies and you watch the slutty clueless girl goes out into the tool shed to find her boyfriend who never came back from getting a can of beer just moments after they just had hours of erotic sex and your just sitting there yelling at the screen "You dumb bitch!". Then your sitting there questioning why the hell the tool shed would be her first choice to look at three o'clock in the fucking morning.
"Your going to be just like your sister, I just know it!" she said slamming her fist against the wall.
"Your going to drop out of high school, tell me to fuck off, and get pregnant. I just know it! " she said melodramatically.
"Mom she poured coffee on me! Hot fucking coffee too!"
"I don't give a shit. I mean school called today and your flunking Anatomy and Geometry. You've gotten yourself into another fight. I mean what happened? Don't you still want to go to UC Berkeley and be music journalist? Or go to the Art Institute in San Francisco? I mean this is your senior year and I just...I just don't know what to do anymore! Also, watch your language I'm tired of hearing those four letter words out of your mouth!" she snarled as she turned back around to face me.
"Mom ever since dad died-"
"I don't want to hear anything on your dad!" she yelled "He has nothing to do with this!" That was definitely the wrong move to make mentioning my Dad. Seriously striking my Dad up in a conversation is like burning a church down in front of the minister.
"You know what mom, no lets talk about dad," I began in that snotty "I'm going to tell you how it really is" type of tone teenagers use.
"No one else has the guts to tell you this so I will. You just can't face the fact that Dad is dead, gone, he's not coming back. It's not like not talking about him is going to make him come back. I've accepted the fact that he's never coming back and if you'd get your head out of your butt no wait excuse my "four letter word" ass, and accept the fact you could focus all your energy at something else. Not ridiculing me and feeling sorry for yourself. He's been gone for almost three years now it's time to move on! Also, I'm not Amanda so stop making me pay for where she screwed up. Just because I don't want a 9 to 5 job doesn't mean I'm going to be a failure and you should know that! If you have a problem with how Amanda turned out then take it up with Amanda leave me out of it!"
"Samantha-"
"No I'm done with this!" I said storming out the room. I could feel me leaving a trail of rage behind. I slammed my door behind me and turned Social Distortion on the turn table of my record player.
Mom and I weren't always like this. Before everything happened we used to be pretty close. After that she went into a bit of depression, which I understood I mean she lost her husband. It got to the point where she quite her job and I got a job to help pay bills, because she was incapable of it. I felt I had to stay strong to keep us together. It got to the point where she would take some pills with a large glass of bourbon. Then she'd fall asleep and awake with a throbbing headache and on occasions would throw up, but she repeated this schedule daily for about a year. I mean at that time I could relate wanting to run away from my problem, but to me that wasn't the most logical method for me.
Anyway, after a while I had enough and all the rage I had bottled up for months went off, and we've never been the same since. Mom eventually got a job and I became the bitter nasty teenager.
The thing I was getting to earlier in the argument was that ever since my Dad died I felt that creating music was my way to keep him alive in me. He always told me I had talent when it came to singing and playing guitar, and just after he died instead of mourning I focused all my energy in the direction of making music for him. I started a solo career and then got into a few bands and have been in the She He He's for a little over a year now. Music just felt as if it was my passion it just feels right every time I'm up on stage playing it. That's another thing Billie and I relate to in the sense that it was how we managed the loss of our fathers.
I think the fact that bothered my mom the most was that at my dad's funeral I didn't cry or show any form of sorrow, that's just how I am. I think maybe I've cried maybe three times out of my life. They were probably when I was a baby or something too. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but really at the funeral I felt disorientated and light-headed. My heart felt as heavy as a ton of bricks and my stomach felt like it was recovering from a three-hundred pound man pulverizing it. In all honesty I still get that feeling when I think about my dad.
I think also my dad's death made me a stronger person. Maybe that's the positive thing that came out of it. Also, though it made me an angsty, stubborn, cold-hearted person who won't let anyone get close to me.
I threw everything off my bed turned off the light and stared out my window at the moonlight bathing in on me. I made a feeble attempt at falling asleep with my mind stuck in abyss of thoughts. Maybe mom was right maybe I won't amount to anything, or maybe I could prove her wrong...
I reached for my notebook on my bedside table and took out a flashlight and began writing lyrics to a possible new song. I was infamous for starting numerous songs without completing them.
Tossing and turning I can't go to bed
Reminders of you start to dance in my head
Spinning around my thoughts cant touch the ground
Because of this misunderstanding you’ve found
Oh how you lie
More then a thousand times
Cares are running wild in the storm
Lost in your world
You've become bored with yourself
So you'll beat what ever is left on the shelf
Trying to embrace what you don't have in yourself