Apathy is similar to living life and waiting for oblivion
My parents have not been blessed with two things:
Exchanging apathy for empathy. And, a daughter with whom there haven’t been any suicidal watches sent forth.
They, Mum really, in her upper crust style, are indifferent to my behaviors as long as they do not enter into two realms: the papers/online media or her stomping grounds, UNH. Father Floyd? You guessed it; he doesn’t care as long as I am home by dinner.
I had been found numerous times wandering the streets of Durham NH naked. I had been guided back to my dorm room several times, naked. I have slit the wrist, down and up, not across. Did I mention I have borderline tendencies? Safety scissors for a suicide attempt really doesn’t quite give the action the attention it needs.
I have thrown objects, fits, and words and left my blood behind in many bathrooms; I am soiled by empathy and ruined by apathy.
This past X-mas I wanted to leave. Get out. Become an adult. Live on my own. Be my own. I pushed everyone away in an attempt to find myself. I’ve come to the conclusion now; there is no finding a road that has been traveled by Ambien Grace!
X-Mas on Auburn Street:
They make me sound like I get depressed if I don’t like a present. Which isn’t true? And even then I say I don’t want anything and they say it’s about giving to others and I’m thinking I do daddy’s shopping and my shopping for you so get over yourself she’s the one who complains if she doesn’t like something. She the one with the ‘only for show’ parties and scholarly dog! Mum hates it when I want to do anything that doesn’t involve her! Now I’m stuck with those two during the worse time of the year!
Coming home to ‘you don’t love us anymore’ was just not what I needed. They need to get over the thought that I don’t want to be home on holidays!
I need a change in subject… I want you to get my mind off it!
Has much changed? No! I am still under lock and key. I am still the fresh out of the womb 22 year old with the reading level of a fourth grader. I am still very indifferent to suicide. What is that saying, 6 of one or a half a dozen of another!
Really, my attic is a bomb of death threats waiting to go off at any given moment.
Shit, wait, what’s that?
“I’ll be right down, Mum. No, I didn’t eat dinner yet.”
