i 'm not moving to indonesia and i'm not cinderella
The Beginning of the End
June 15th a day of horrible news that I would never forget. All I did was walk through the door to see my mom sitting on the light brown sofa. Like my day hadn't been horrible enough.I lost my best friend and my boy friend and,now this. This would be a time in life where you would think everything just keeps spinning and spinning.
My mom still sitting there trying to figure something to say. I look up at her through my straight light brown bangs. My brown eyes probably giving her a impatient look. Instead of her talking she gave me a look. Not any look,THE look. The one I knew all to well. This look had been tearing me apart for at least eight years. My mind trying to think of something calming so I could make it through this. But it wasn't working. Then my mom made things worse she confirmed it out loud.
“tell me it isn't true”i said eyes watering.
She replied getting up “we have to move,we can't afford it here.”
I shouted “why…why is it every fucking time I get use to something or someone it leaves me or we move to another country”as I backed away from her hug.
She exclaimed “my job keep changing,bills get higher. You think I want this to happen!i want to be able to sit down and know when I get up everythings gonna be okay when I get up.”
I replied “your use to it. You traveled the world as a kid. But there's a difference you had a chance to make friends. Me I'll never have that chance”tears slowly began to fall down my face.
She yelled in a motherly tone “you know what stop acting like a child. Suck it up and,and start packing the stuff in your room.
I shouted angrily as I ran up the stairs to my room. My thoughts started making their own conversation. Why do we even bother packing and unpacking. All we're going to do is move again. Maybe because my mom enjoys torturing me. Why can't she find a stable job?why can't she find a stable husband?not that she's slutty or anything. She just wasn't good at picking guys.
I started packing up the pictures on my dresser. My room is beautiful,NOT. Yeah it has a queen size bed with sheets made of Egyptian cotton. But all I have is a couple of posters on my wall with celebs on them. That's about it the rest was furniture. I really never unpacked much which saved me time in cases like this. I just kept what I needed out of boxes. And if someone gave me something,onto the dresser it went. While thinking about this I realized that I hadn't packed what was currently in my hand. I looked down to see a picture of me and my ex. I was wearing a red silver sequined shoulder drape front top. With dark blue denim skinny jeans. My shoes where just red converse. Me and Matt were at a teen club that night. Yeah I'm only 16.in the picture I was laying on his shoulder smiling. He was smiling too. I rubbed the dark black edge of the frame. I felt emotions run through me. I took the frame and threw it towards the yellow wall. It hit the wall making a large crashing sound and fell to the floor.
My mom shouted “don't break anything or dent the walls. This ain't are house and you ain't home.”
I mumbled “where never at home.”
I yelled “where is home?”
she said “metro,Indonesia.”
I thought Indonesia?the place where they walk in over sized sheets and they have bendeis on there heads. Great my nightmare just grew a whole lot larger.
I stated “I'm done packing.”
“already?”
“yeah.”
the next two days where as boring as could be. Even though my mom kept trying to be helpful by talking about new friends,adventures,and other junk. When se wasn't talking...well no ones lived to see that day.
My mom still sitting there trying to figure something to say. I look up at her through my straight light brown bangs. My brown eyes probably giving her a impatient look. Instead of her talking she gave me a look. Not any look,THE look. The one I knew all to well. This look had been tearing me apart for at least eight years. My mind trying to think of something calming so I could make it through this. But it wasn't working. Then my mom made things worse she confirmed it out loud.
“tell me it isn't true”i said eyes watering.
She replied getting up “we have to move,we can't afford it here.”
I shouted “why…why is it every fucking time I get use to something or someone it leaves me or we move to another country”as I backed away from her hug.
She exclaimed “my job keep changing,bills get higher. You think I want this to happen!i want to be able to sit down and know when I get up everythings gonna be okay when I get up.”
I replied “your use to it. You traveled the world as a kid. But there's a difference you had a chance to make friends. Me I'll never have that chance”tears slowly began to fall down my face.
She yelled in a motherly tone “you know what stop acting like a child. Suck it up and,and start packing the stuff in your room.
I shouted angrily as I ran up the stairs to my room. My thoughts started making their own conversation. Why do we even bother packing and unpacking. All we're going to do is move again. Maybe because my mom enjoys torturing me. Why can't she find a stable job?why can't she find a stable husband?not that she's slutty or anything. She just wasn't good at picking guys.
I started packing up the pictures on my dresser. My room is beautiful,NOT. Yeah it has a queen size bed with sheets made of Egyptian cotton. But all I have is a couple of posters on my wall with celebs on them. That's about it the rest was furniture. I really never unpacked much which saved me time in cases like this. I just kept what I needed out of boxes. And if someone gave me something,onto the dresser it went. While thinking about this I realized that I hadn't packed what was currently in my hand. I looked down to see a picture of me and my ex. I was wearing a red silver sequined shoulder drape front top. With dark blue denim skinny jeans. My shoes where just red converse. Me and Matt were at a teen club that night. Yeah I'm only 16.in the picture I was laying on his shoulder smiling. He was smiling too. I rubbed the dark black edge of the frame. I felt emotions run through me. I took the frame and threw it towards the yellow wall. It hit the wall making a large crashing sound and fell to the floor.
My mom shouted “don't break anything or dent the walls. This ain't are house and you ain't home.”
I mumbled “where never at home.”
I yelled “where is home?”
she said “metro,Indonesia.”
I thought Indonesia?the place where they walk in over sized sheets and they have bendeis on there heads. Great my nightmare just grew a whole lot larger.
I stated “I'm done packing.”
“already?”
“yeah.”
the next two days where as boring as could be. Even though my mom kept trying to be helpful by talking about new friends,adventures,and other junk. When se wasn't talking...well no ones lived to see that day.
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hope you like it :P