Monster, Monster

what it's really like to be different. Mine don't. My whole life I've been fighting against other people with who I am, who I want to be, who I will be someday. All the while fighting with them. What made it harder was everything else that went on behind our closed doors. Patricia's diabetes, her handicap, and the fact that my sister wins the award for the biggest mental case.

My dad works all the time. Patricia told him if he didn't join the armed services, she wouldn't marry him. he enrolled in the navy the next day. He used to work on helicopters, but now he's been transferred to recruiting duty. We moved from sunny, ghetto Mayport across the country to wheat-aired Wichita. I can't stand it here. The smell of the air, all of the bugs. At least back home I knew where everything was. I had friends, I had a schedule, I had my brother. Now my life is no longer existent, stuck somewhere between the future and the past: a black hole that I'm afraid I'll never come out of.

In this new city, this new town: all I've ever done is unpack boxes, service to Patricia's daily needs. Make dinner, fix coffee, write the shopping list, call the phone company, sign up for recycling, fold laundry, pick out blinds, scrub floors, put new batteries in the carbon monoxide tester, fix the new television, and other relentless chores. So it's was a surprise when I heard my aunt was coming for a visit to help out around the house.

I could only hope it would give me a break.