Melodies amongst bass lines and other intricate sounds blending into the pleasant noise coming from my ear buds. Music, seems it truly is the only thing I can depend on. No matter how loud the yelling gets, how dirty the glares are or how unfair the situation may be or how hated I am music will always be my comfort. Buds in, volume up nothing in this forsaken world can touch me. Sitting placidly in my room, looking at my few memories of home sitting atop my shelf. Team picture from swim, my plush basketball, my lucky pine cone from eighth grade softball. My modified letter and pins, my few tokens from the best four years of my life, my award for a public speaking contest I won best original in. My sacred black mail family portrait of my mother and her family from her high school days. Eminem spitting through my headphones, telling me about his struggles while I contemplate my own. Gently my fingers trace the patterns on my hodge-podge quilt, memories of many an episode of spongebob curled up with my sister slip into my mind. The morning I left, the last time I held my beloved Lily-bug, a single tear streaks down my face. Instinctively my knees are drawn to my chest, glancing at my black curtains, and beige walls so plain with the acception of the portrait. My brown carpeting and dated television, untouched since the olympics, a single lamp rests on my worn desk. My box,my cubby hole, where I spend most of my time. Sad how little of me is represented in this miniscule depressing space. My dusty ceiling fan circulating the stale air, whiffs of the musky attic mixed with my own body spray, and odd mixture at best. Laying back on my lumpy twin mattress, slowly I bury myself in my quilt, the blanket covering my feet where my sweatpants didn't. Unlock my ipod and switch to a new pandora station, papa roach is now serenading me with guitar riffs and intense screams. Familiar voices drifting to the ear not occupied by a headphone, talk of her latest and not that great achievement. Double click the home key, turn up the tune. My door opens a crack, a pleasant boom that is my father's voice fills the air. “What are you doing?” I extract my earbud, the usual answer escapes my lips “Nothing special, just listening to music.” When in my mind the relevant phrase 'hiding from her' is threatening to escape my lips. “Dinner willl be done soon,” his sympathetic expression tells me what he can't say. My look of understanding sets his furrowed brow at ease. “Ok, I'll be down shortly.” Oh f***, I absolutely hate dinner time. In a sluggish movement I strip away the quilt and rise to my bare feet, I readjust my sweatpants and fix my aged t-shirt. My descent to the dreaded mealtime gathering is almost excruciating. I walk cautiously into the kitchen, as always I'm greeted by a deadly glare from her. Nothing I'm not accustomed to, I advance towards the cupboard and retrieve a glass, I pour myself some sweet tea and take my seat in hell. The smell of homemade fries fills my nose 'are you kidding? Fries again, that's like the third time this week,' I fake a smile in my step b****'s direction and serve myself a small portion of her fat doused cooking. My Dad's comforting presence beside me, the princess is seated beside the other half to my alliance against the three musketeers, opposite my father and I. As always the dictator takes her place at the head of the table. Encouraging looks occasionally exchanged between my ally and I. A pained look at my Dad when his attention is directed anywhere but at her, I endure crappy jokes and half-assed attempts at conversation, none directed at me. Another dinner spent completely invisible, a hasty escape to my room after clearing my plate and placing it in the dish waasher. When the coast is clear and everyone has disappeared in their rooms I cross the hall and lightly shut the door to my ally's domain behind me. A short while of bitching and scheming about being free, then I return to solitude. My phone has been revoked and my communication to the outside world has been temporarily disconnected. My only companion is my ipod and my thoughts, my homework has already been completed, nothing better to do than sleep. Be at peace for a few short hours, then get up and conqour a new day of classes and more hatred at home. Turn up the bass, and escape.
Escape in the Bass
September 25, 2012