God, they're not even going to apologize, are they?

Not to me, anyway. They'll talk to Sophie, but I want them to come here. I want them to try. I want to turn around and bitch them out. I want them to come and try just so I can refuse them.

I didn't do a damn thing wrong. Mom…she's such a wimp, such a pussy. Such a baby. She makes a problem out of everything. Maybe if she got herself off those damn depression meds, she'd be able to live her life. But no, she feeds on her sadness because nothing is ever good enough for her.

Not even me.

I will not cry, I will not. I am stronger that that. I am stronger than her.


Tilt your head back and make those tears go back into your eyes. Do not let them fall. You are stronger. You will not fold under pressure like her. You are not her. You are better. She will never amount to anything more than what she is right now; she will never apply herself.

She's given up and blames everyone else for her problems. You will not. You will live your life.


I swear to God, if dad ever lays one more hand on me, I'm gone. I don't know where I'll go, but I'll leave. I will learn to make a life for myself. It'd be hard; hard as hell, but I could do it. I could escape from them.

And I swear that if he ever touches Soph or Caleb, I will call the authorities. I don't care how much he thinks we disserve a good beating. He's the fucking parent, he needs to learn to control his anger.


She's so weak. She runs into a damn wall and starts bawling. Oh please. She so tired. I'm tired too, and you know what? I ran into walls at school. I fell down the God-damned stairs. And then I got back up and I didn't cry.

She's so angry, so depressed about moving. That's nice. Does she assume the rest of us aren't? It affects us too, as much as she'd like to think she's the center of the God-damned universe.


I'd like to add that I went upstairs in the first place to see how she was; to help her. But that would be lying.

I didn't go upstairs to help her; I went to stop her. I heard her enraged voice, the voice of a stressed woman who can't deal with anything anymore, so she decides to hurt someone; anyone. She decides to shift the fucking blame. She was yelling at Soph, and I came up to take that blame so that she wouldn't have to.

God, I hate her. I have no respect for her. At least Dad still holds some; mom, she's pathetic. She's just…pathetic.

And dad, he's falling. All this stress at work, I know it's hard for him, and so I try to give him his space, but I'm so sorry, that does not mean I'm going to stop living my life. He hates his job here, but he's hated everyone of his jobs. I'm tired of being dragged somewhere new being promised happiness, when all that happens is hatred. And then we leave again.


I remember this.

I remember being thrown against the wall in Kansas right before all Hell broke loose.

I remember being held there by my neck.

He was stressed.

Mom told us to be strong and to leave him alone. That was the best thing to do, she said. And we believed her.

But she was wrong.

The best thing to do would have been to act like a God-damned father and use some

s e l f c o n t r o l.


Don't cry. You are stronger. Make that God-damned tear go back in your eye. Hold your breath to keep from bawling. Don't give in, you'll sink to their level.


I will not shift the blame; not anymore. I know that I am not perfect, and that I will never be. I know that I am stubborn and sometimes I make their life harder.

But I know that they are not perfect too. I know that they don't like to take the blame either.

I know that things have to change.


I've been looking around at apartments. The one's here are so expensive. I would never ask to move in with a friend, but I am going to prepare myself. If the need arises, I am going to be ready to leave. I will not stay here if they continue to act like this. I am not a baby, and it's been an amazing amount of time since I acted like one.

They yell at me for things in the past because there is nothing in the present.

What's amazing to me is that I've almost stopped loving them.

And it's been an amazingly long time since either of them told me that they loved me.


God, now you've done it. You've let that tear fall. You've cried.

Fuck. Fuck them all.


I'm stealing her meds. The depression meds. She needs to get over it.


I want to talk to someone.



Someone who won't judge me.

I want my friends, but it's too late for them.


Someone please help.

I don't know what to do about this anymore.


But you still cry silent tears. They won't hear them. They won't come.

I don't want them to know that they've done it. That they've broken me. That my heart hurts and my eyes are swollen.

But see? It took an entire hour for the tears to come. For you to break.

Surely that stands for something?


I am strong. I will not let them destroy me, or what I've been doing. I am not broken, just down. I have done nothing wrong.

But I swear to God that I will give up everything; all my dreams; if he ever touches me again. I will take my dreams, I will go, I will never come back.


I s w e a r to G o d


A/n: I found a writing of mine like this from a year or two back, and decided that the ideas themselves were decent. I hope you liked the written version of an angsty-teenage breakdown.