I'm done with this sh*t.

Yes, I just said it.

My dad just got home from Germany. What's the first thing that comes out of his mouth?
Not "I missed you." Not "did you get a hair cut? Wow, that shirt looks really nice on you."
No.

"Hey dad! There's macaroni and cheese in the oven, and honey-baked ham in the fridge-"

"Hold on a second. I can't hear anything you're saying over the stuff I'm carrying.... Is that a ripped up dollar bill on the floor?"

"Yes. It's been there for a while."

"What, does no one pick up things in this house?!"

"I spent the last two days doing the dishes(so he could come home to a clean house.)"

"Did you help get them dirty?"

This is F-ing despicable. I'm sick of his crap. Go back to Germany. No, go to Hell. I'm sick of your sh*t. You don't deserve to be called my father.

I don't give a crap if you read this or burn the freaking Xbox. Come back when you're ready to restore. Actually ready. Until then, burn. See if I care.
You certainly don't care about me.

Rust and Time

If a dish is drenched in food, scrub it out.
It's not that hard.
Our dishwasher can't handle the slightest bit of food, but...

My father doesn't seem to understand.

My life has slipped into disrepair.
Deterioration without remorse.
Sorrow. Emptiness. And yet, nothing - comes to terms.

I'm not mentally I'll, but I forgot who I was. Perhaps I've dissociated to an extent. A separate, no, different person has taken over since those months of agony. Slowly, gradually, I've built a new life, a new stage, a new mind. My heart has remained, but my body had changed. My thoughts and my world have fallen over the edge, pushed by one soulless pair of eyes, never to be spoken of, yet screaming under the skin.

I am broken.
I am changed
I am reforged, new, and scathed.

My cracks will never be filled, but
I hope to God for ridges to compensate.
I don't care for smooth skin anymore.

Over time, things start to rust if they aren't oiled properly. I've lost a good sabre blade to carelessness in forgetting to oil.

I've learned my lesson.

Confrontation

Ok, so I've been talking to my friend Neon for about a week now. We've talked about everything from personal fears to having boobs. It's great xD Never felt so free in my life. I can just come home from a stressful day at school and let it all out. He's my perfect safe zone.

It started as a part, a sort of challenge or game where each agreed to ask whatever we wanted, and answer with complete honesty to the best of our abilities.

Today in particular, he finally shared his "explanation" regarding my past incidents. Basically, he believes my dreams and experiences are extensions of a state of overlap where I allowed myself to be vulnerable to otherworldy contact. I'm close to believing him.

So, tonight and this week, I'll watch and rewatch the source of my fears in attempt to find some answers. Maybe it'd be better to undergo hypnosis and remember what he said, but I'm going to find out for myself. God help me come back intact if I do stare into his lifeless eyes again. I can't do this on my own. Terrified.

Wish me the best of luck. In case I don't come back, tell my family I love them, and that I dearly love my friends Sydney, Chad, Carlee, and Tej. Isaiah wouldn't be able to take it...

Goodnight :)

Edit: May 5, 2015
Day 1, nothing happened. I survived the night unscathed, though I've already begin to show signs of paranoia.

May 6, 2015
Day 2, nothing happened, but I saved myself the trouble as I was going on 5 hours of sleep with two essays due the next day. No way in heck I'm taking that risk... I'll try again tonight. 'Til next time~

To me..

To them, marriage is not glue, but cement.
Hard and cumbersome. Unrelenting. Like a shackle.

To them, love is "I payed the bills." "My day was fine. How was yours?"

To them, family is Inferno: coarse comedy with a side of fries. Conflicting half-hearts. Satan has three heads.

To them, life is suede. But what about me?

To me, marriage is not glue, but a tube through which two solutions mingle in open hearts, actively striving for equilibrium.

To me, love is "How was you're day?" "I brought you you're favorite tea c: surprise!"
When one side lacks, the other fills it up.

To me, family is Paradiso, where warmth and love mingle to form a blanket of support. Where compromise is key, and complacency, the enemy. Where it's totally OK to spill spaghetti sauce on the tablecloth.

To me, life is a prism, not a prison. The world is a place of beauty and pain, but the home is what you make it.

-Adeline Boswell 2015