I'll Never Be What You Need.

When your parents say they love you, you should always believe them. Sometimes they do things to piss you off, like make you clean your room, or make you wash the dishes or whatever. That's only because they love you and they want you to be a better person when you leave the nest and go out into the real world, where things aren't always so comforting.

But there is always the occasional parent who does something really bitchy. Like not come home when they say they will.

You try to get a hold of them, but you don't have a number to call.

Sometimes, this was done on accident. Others, done on purpose.

We'd all like to think that it was an accident. Your mom or dad left their phone in the charger and forgot about it. They're coming home right after work to let you know they're sorry and they won't do it again.

Then, there's the other type of accident. The accident where the parent doesn't have a phone but doesn't bother to borrow someone else's just to make a quick phone call. The accident where the parent makes no effort to make sure the child got to their dance lesson all right. The accident that leaves the young children oblivious and the older children worry.

Sometimes, people are just that selfish. They talk on their phone for hours and listen to some of their friends from high school, but don't even take the time to listen to something that's important to you. They party and get drunk with their friends and even give you alcohol to shut you up. They weren't ready to be parents. You were an accident, damned from the start. They never asked for you. They never sat down and made plans. But luckily for you, they kept you anyway, and decided to try to make it work.

Years later, it still didn't. Both of your parents go their separate ways and you're continually having to choose sides, not wanting to say anything, but not wanting to have to hear the bullshit they talk.

Finally, you decide to settle on just one parent. You settle on your mother; you figure she'll take good care of you. She gave birth to you for Christ's sakes.

But no. She doesn't. When it gets to the point you come home dreading the sight of her, dreading what mood she'll be in when you go to her, you realize that you don't deserve this. You never did. You know it's not your fault, but you still feel like it is. You don't know what you did.

They're hurting everyone, not just you. You try to pull together the pieces; you do what you can. Nothing works anymore. They're being stubborn and selfish. They won't even try to fix up your already broken up family.

You're left alone, until nothing's left. You keep to yourself, talking only when necessary. You don't want to talk, you're afraid of what they'll say to you if you try to open up just once. You begin to hurt yourself; you were always so against it before. You never understood why that would appeal to anyone. Then one day you feel the need to hurt yourself; you're just so sick of your life. At first you cut tentatively; you don't know how this works. You don't want to die. Just hurt yourself just a little to ease the pain.

You become cutting deeper and deeper and faster and faster. You crave to see the blood coming to the surface. You sigh a big sigh of relief every time it does.

They don't notice any of this, or how much you're broken. Your friends try to help, and eventually they do, but some don't. It depends who your friends are and if they care enough. If they do, they'll convince you to stop. If they don't, they just won't notice and move on a keep worrying about themselves.

Selfish. People are selfish. Greedy selfish bastards. Sometimes you wish you were never born at all; it'd be easier if you weren't.

You wish you could just move on. Forget about your parent and just live your own life. Go out with your friends, stuff like that. But it isn't always that easy.

You want someone to talk to, to understand, but no one understands exactly what you're going through. Not even yourself.

Sometimes you just want to sleep, like there's nothing else that will help. You don't want to go to school, even if it is getting away from them. You don't have the energy to do anything anymore. You just want to sleep. You want to curl up in a ball and get angry at anything that disturbs you. You temper becomes short; nobody understands.

Finally, they stop their futile attempts at trying. They give up on you. You're left there, more broken then you've ever felt. You don't know what to say; your tongue just won't form the words.

Then you're just sitting there, waiting for a phone call, because despite it all, you still live them. You don't want to see them hurt.

The call doesn't come. Hours move to minutes and you just cry, not knowing what else to do. You end up going to bed to be greeted by the nightmares that await you.

This is what Mikey way felt that night he came home. He knew he shouldn't have expected much more. Frank had dropped him off, and he hadn't spoken to his mother the night before. She had said she'd only be out for a little while.

With a lump in his throat, he removed his make-up. Another day he thought as he climbed into his bed and wished to be anywhere anywhere but there.