Silance is my language

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It’s a Friday which means two half days of sleeping in because of the weekend. Means I don’t have to be bugged by the world. Ah the weekend is completely lovely. My dad would be most likely cooking tonight because it was girl’s night for my mom. She’d eat at their house or go some out some place with her friends. My mom doesn’t leave any left over’s or prepared meals before she leaves because she’s to existed to get out of the house. To feel young again, I can’t blame here because I like feeling young an innocent too.

When I got to the front door I unlocked it closing it behind me heading to the kitchen for the always good cookie dough. Once I had the cookie dough I ran up stairs to my room trying to not been seen at all. My family would try to get me to talk every time they saw me until they gave up. God it annoys the living hell out of me! I understand being considered; but after a year knowing that I’m physically healthy I get good grades they shouldn’t have to worry. Some say that it is their job to but I think that they work over time.

I go up the stairs down the hall almost to my room when I see him … my brother. He smirks at me like he does every time he sees me. I stop right in my tracks like a fox just catching its prey an now is ready to start his games. “How was school?” He asked me while moving his hand around for an answer. I replied with my silence towards him as he started to look angry. His easy going cool kind of guy voice started to get into a darker tone. “What the hell is your deal Dream, why won’t you speak?” He shook his head walking past me down the stairs.

My brother isn’t always like that. The memories to me of how nice he was to me when we were younger. When we would hang out in the old tree house that still stands to this day. We’d stay up watching movies and fell asleep on the couch our parents would carry us to bed. He was such a good brother to me; he doesn’t deserve the silent treatment, but my mouth. That’s a different story with a tragedy that shouldn’t be re-told. I am such a fuck up.

Once I was in my room I let my body fall onto the bed with its soft covers of a blue background with stars surrounding the rest of the cover. Clutching onto the cookie dough that was going to get warm if I didn’t eat it soon. I started to un-wrap the cookie dough wrapper as I looked for my TV DVD remotes. I turned on the TV and DVD player to get Pretty in Pink going. Once that was set up I watched just concentrating on that movie. Movies are my version of therapy depending on where it’s from it can be a lot cheaper. It doesn’t ask you for a paycheck after the session are over either.

My phone on my bed side table was starting to ring I really should just un-plug the thing. Maybe I could sell it off I haven’t used it since day I got it. I went up and un-plugged my phone it’s not like I’d answer it. Than I lied back down as I started to close my eyes as everything just started to clear away I could see was dark black.

I heard a loud noise at my door that had waked me up from a nap apparently my body was telling me I needed. I still feel I didn’t get enough sleep. It’s like people know when most we’re most comfy and want to knock you out of where ever you are or what ever you’re doing just to see what happens. I got up from bed to open the door; it was my brother again. Come to spread more sunshine? I thought to myself sarcastically. “Dinners ready frizz ball.” he told me. Since his job was done he hurried far away from me like I was a new form of plague. Oliver made it look he was walking normal but I still stand by the plague thing.
My brother had a awesome name but the kid had turn rotten on me like milk and sometimes he smelled just like it.

I went downstairs to eat dinner even though I was quite happy with my cookie dough but that wouldn’t do for my parents. They’d think I was sick and send me to the doctors the next day. It’s not an exaggeration my mom and dad have done it to me before four times. I deiced to take as little as I could an hope to god my dads food wouldn’t come back up for a sequel.

Sitting down at the family couch to eat at the little coffee table was my idea when I was apart of the family. It became a habit an now we do it for dinner every day but breakfast and lunch got left to the curb. We could eat where ever we wanted just as long as we ate something. Poor breakfast and lunch. Wait am I feeling bad for times of the day to eat food? I may not talk but I’ve got to draw the line when meal times are getting to my head.

We all ate quietly not in a awkward silence just the way things where in this family. Sometimes it would get to me an I’d feel paranoid about it but than just forgot about it because I still do not want to talk under any circumstances. My dad did make one comment about his food being, “Good food.” It may be kick ass food in your world but in this one I really think otherwise. I than got up an went into the kitchen to put my plate in the dish filed sink. I wonder who’s day it is to clean the dishes?

I was one step away from going up the stairs when I heard a phone ring. Every day it feels like at least 71 people deiced to call you. I hope I am not the only one that thinks that because I can find ways to prove this. Trust me. My dad told my brother to get the phone he did an I flew up the stairs making it obvious I was in slamming the bathroom door so I wouldn’t be disturbed if that phone call happened to be for me. I have a feeling it might be from Kat he try’s to talk to me on the phone at least two times a month. He hasn’t succeeded with a response form me yet. I admire his failed attempts plus in a odd way his fail attempts of trying to make conversation with my family amuse me when I hear them sometimes.

I than caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was hiding from the phone. It was extremely frizzy, it looked horrifying. I looked for some kind of spray for the frizz to get off my head. I went looking through the line of products of the family an still having trouble finding one. When I had found a bottle I shook it to see if there was any left in the bottle. Just enough of it I sprayed all over my head than used my hand to flatten some the frizz. I felt like I was making more of a big deal than I should. I’m home but it still bugs me.