Whaddya think?
RAVENS RANTS
Chapter One:
What would happen if I tell my parents I refuse to take care of their broken relationship, which clearly has no hope, and decided that I want to be sent away to a foster home? Nothing good, I'm guessing. But it was worth convincing myself for just one second that I'm not responsibile for what happens between them... Right? Right.
I mean, don't they ever get tired from arguing about the same thing, over, and over, and over again? It has to at least be physically impossible to have your mouth running for that long. On second thought, I'll tell you exactly what's impossible: My brother not waking up any minute... Aaaand there goes that famous squeal. "Raven! Don't you hear your brother crying?! Go take him outside, please! Your father and I are in the middle of a crucial discussion." Discussion? Is that what she calls it? Seriously, how long can someone remain in denial befo - "Raven!" goes my mother again, interrupting my thoughts, as per usual. "I'm coming! Jeez.." I threw on my most recently bought American Eagle Jeans as quickly as possible, before my mother might have a heart attack or something. It was the only clean thing I have left from my "Super-Duper-Hill-Clothes," that's what I'd like to call it. It really is a work of art. Took me three months to perfect that baby. And if my mother dares to even think about ruining it, because it just so happens to not be as perfectly lined and neat as she would want it, she'll end up having yet another person to have her "crucial discussions" with.
I was really hesitant to go into my brothers room. I always am when he's crying like this. If there's one thing I despise, it's having to see my brother upset in any way. It's a miracle to think that even such an angel can be related to such a witch. It most be impossible, I mean, I have this well-thought-out theory that the nurse handed her the wrong baby when Mother gave birth. I had to go into that room, I had to get my brother out of here for at least until my parents cool off. Not only because I hear my mother charging up to the room right now, but because even though there is no hope left for the rest of the family, there is some hope left for him to turn out normal. I'd do anything to make him happy. Yes, even watch another Barney episode with him, regardless of the fact that that purple monster gives me the Eebi Jeebies. I don't know about the rest of the kid-humanity, but I personally believe that show belongs under the Horror Section, strictly reserved for people who had part of their brain permanently removed.
I feel my mothers eyes lasering down my back. "How about some arcade, Ethan. we can play Tekken, your favorite. Just you and me. Whaddya say?" I force the most pretentious, nerve-wrecked smile. Thank goodness children can't read these things. She's probably thinking about how much she wishes I was like my cousin Nicole, this bimbo cheerleader who has straight A's, and dresses like it's her birthday everyday. She always puts on this facade that everything about her and her life is flawless, and it's all thanks to her presence. Doesn't she ever just wanna through away that fake personality of hers, and get comfortable in this world? I don't know how people like her manage to survive. My mother probably has such venegance towards God for not creating a daughter who does everything right, and nothing wrong. I really wish my mother would stop watching those stupid mindless shows; they give her such a distorted image of mother-daughter relationships. She's very fortunate that I do not take her, "You are never good enough" crap personally. Because otherwise, she wouldn't have me confident and mature enough to take care of her shit for her. I mean, what the heck is everyones deal with being perfect?
My brother doesn't look as excited to go as usual. Maybe he's outgrowing the arcade phase already? Na, couldn't be, he's only five. I would've been fooled though, he's the most mature child I have ever encountered. And these days, that's very hard to find. I mean, you see a bunch of 1st graders with IPods, and cell phones now, thinking they are so cool because they're wearing pokemon shirts and will bully you if you look funny. But can you blame them? Look who othey have as role models. Adults who care about the most superficial, pointless things. You see, this is another reason my brother is a miracle child. Look at what kind of people he has as "role models." You'd think he'd be angry and demand more attention. Nope, not him. He'd be happy even if you give him a lollipop for his birthday, as long as you come over to keep him company. And whenever I ask him if he wants me to buy him a new car, or some action figures, he just smiles awkwardly, puts his hands behind his back and says, "No tanks, Wayven.." I love spending time with him, I love taking him away from the hell hole he is forced to call home. If I didn't have a million responsibilites about to drown me, I would spend all my time with him, teaching him how to succeed in life. "You see how mommy and daddy are? If you ever wanna be a good man when you grow up, don't ever be like them, promise?" He would look so serious, cleaning his fist in the air, responding, "Pwomise! I pwomise Wayven!" He is so adorable sometimes, that he deserves his own show, focusing on just how adorable he is. I wish I can show him how much I love and appreciate him more. Without him, I'd have no sanity in my life. He gives me hope. I wish I could hug him more, and shower him with affection, but I just can't. There's always something stopping me.
We walked back home and arrived by super time. It seems to be quiet, so it's safe to go back home. We sit by the table, and eat our dinner quietly.
Chapter One:
What would happen if I tell my parents I refuse to take care of their broken relationship, which clearly has no hope, and decided that I want to be sent away to a foster home? Nothing good, I'm guessing. But it was worth convincing myself for just one second that I'm not responsibile for what happens between them... Right? Right.
I mean, don't they ever get tired from arguing about the same thing, over, and over, and over again? It has to at least be physically impossible to have your mouth running for that long. On second thought, I'll tell you exactly what's impossible: My brother not waking up any minute... Aaaand there goes that famous squeal. "Raven! Don't you hear your brother crying?! Go take him outside, please! Your father and I are in the middle of a crucial discussion." Discussion? Is that what she calls it? Seriously, how long can someone remain in denial befo - "Raven!" goes my mother again, interrupting my thoughts, as per usual. "I'm coming! Jeez.." I threw on my most recently bought American Eagle Jeans as quickly as possible, before my mother might have a heart attack or something. It was the only clean thing I have left from my "Super-Duper-Hill-Clothes," that's what I'd like to call it. It really is a work of art. Took me three months to perfect that baby. And if my mother dares to even think about ruining it, because it just so happens to not be as perfectly lined and neat as she would want it, she'll end up having yet another person to have her "crucial discussions" with.
I was really hesitant to go into my brothers room. I always am when he's crying like this. If there's one thing I despise, it's having to see my brother upset in any way. It's a miracle to think that even such an angel can be related to such a witch. It most be impossible, I mean, I have this well-thought-out theory that the nurse handed her the wrong baby when Mother gave birth. I had to go into that room, I had to get my brother out of here for at least until my parents cool off. Not only because I hear my mother charging up to the room right now, but because even though there is no hope left for the rest of the family, there is some hope left for him to turn out normal. I'd do anything to make him happy. Yes, even watch another Barney episode with him, regardless of the fact that that purple monster gives me the Eebi Jeebies. I don't know about the rest of the kid-humanity, but I personally believe that show belongs under the Horror Section, strictly reserved for people who had part of their brain permanently removed.
I feel my mothers eyes lasering down my back. "How about some arcade, Ethan. we can play Tekken, your favorite. Just you and me. Whaddya say?" I force the most pretentious, nerve-wrecked smile. Thank goodness children can't read these things. She's probably thinking about how much she wishes I was like my cousin Nicole, this bimbo cheerleader who has straight A's, and dresses like it's her birthday everyday. She always puts on this facade that everything about her and her life is flawless, and it's all thanks to her presence. Doesn't she ever just wanna through away that fake personality of hers, and get comfortable in this world? I don't know how people like her manage to survive. My mother probably has such venegance towards God for not creating a daughter who does everything right, and nothing wrong. I really wish my mother would stop watching those stupid mindless shows; they give her such a distorted image of mother-daughter relationships. She's very fortunate that I do not take her, "You are never good enough" crap personally. Because otherwise, she wouldn't have me confident and mature enough to take care of her shit for her. I mean, what the heck is everyones deal with being perfect?
My brother doesn't look as excited to go as usual. Maybe he's outgrowing the arcade phase already? Na, couldn't be, he's only five. I would've been fooled though, he's the most mature child I have ever encountered. And these days, that's very hard to find. I mean, you see a bunch of 1st graders with IPods, and cell phones now, thinking they are so cool because they're wearing pokemon shirts and will bully you if you look funny. But can you blame them? Look who othey have as role models. Adults who care about the most superficial, pointless things. You see, this is another reason my brother is a miracle child. Look at what kind of people he has as "role models." You'd think he'd be angry and demand more attention. Nope, not him. He'd be happy even if you give him a lollipop for his birthday, as long as you come over to keep him company. And whenever I ask him if he wants me to buy him a new car, or some action figures, he just smiles awkwardly, puts his hands behind his back and says, "No tanks, Wayven.." I love spending time with him, I love taking him away from the hell hole he is forced to call home. If I didn't have a million responsibilites about to drown me, I would spend all my time with him, teaching him how to succeed in life. "You see how mommy and daddy are? If you ever wanna be a good man when you grow up, don't ever be like them, promise?" He would look so serious, cleaning his fist in the air, responding, "Pwomise! I pwomise Wayven!" He is so adorable sometimes, that he deserves his own show, focusing on just how adorable he is. I wish I can show him how much I love and appreciate him more. Without him, I'd have no sanity in my life. He gives me hope. I wish I could hug him more, and shower him with affection, but I just can't. There's always something stopping me.
We walked back home and arrived by super time. It seems to be quiet, so it's safe to go back home. We sit by the table, and eat our dinner quietly.