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| 03:51am 10/08/2005 |
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you know, often i find myself wondering what it would be like to live in a house with a normal family.
i wonder what it would be like to have a sister who didnt go to rehab for cocaine, another sister who didnt habitually smoke marijuana, and a brother that wasnt young enough to be my own child.
ofcourse, when talking about normality, we must first consider the parental influences guiding us. well, i've called my father every name in the book except normal (and perhaps correct), and my head constantly throbs from the screaming matches i have with my mother. in all honesty, i dont really give a shit about being normal. i gave up on that a long time ago.
it wasnt even the notion of normal or "fitting in" that i wanted. hell, in every aspect of my life i stick out like a sore thumb, and i've grown accustomed to that... i would even go so far as to say a part of me LIKES that. but what i've never wanted is that channel of negative energy that comes along with being abnormal. all i want is a little fucking peace and comfort. if it takes normality to reach that- then thats what i'm willing to work towards.
as a 17 year old, my notion of normal is the parent that makes the kids lunches to take to work, not the other way around. normal is the parents hauling the childrens asses out of beds, not the child beating the mother senseless with a pillow 5 minutes before she's supposed to be on the road to work. normal is the parent constantly trying to reason with the kid, not the kid being asked to "lower the bar". normal is bass akwards from the way i live my own life.
its also very difficult to decipher whats normal when you live next door to the macks. the macks very well could be the smiths or the johnsons, or any other name-brand american family that comes prepackaged and fully equipped to raise the responsible, wonderful children in suburban america today. mrs. mack always gets a little glint of warning in her eyes when one of her children walks towards my yard. the mere though of them crossing the invisible line seperating our yards is more than she can apparently handle, and will serve in the utmost corruption of her jello mold children.
i dont know how in the hell i landed on this edge of the culdasack. not in a million years would i ever picture myself beign here. and it also sucks because i'm constantly forced to walk my dog, just so that the neighbors dont think we're abusive and call the damn dog-police on our asses. i'm so tired. i'll rant more later. |
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