Sharp words

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I like the rain. It pitter patters like music on the driveway. On the leaves. On the lake. And on the roof. Pitter patter pitter patter. it’s the kind of music everyone listens to. It will please any country, rock, pop, or rap lover out there and if they listen long enough it will become their own song in their head. I like how my room glows when It rains. Looking out the window I imagine being in a submarine looking out at a underwater universe that is not mine. Its troubles, tears, and worry’s belong to something else. My world is high above this one. Its sunny every day and things are the way god imagined them when he made this aquarium I now stare at through my window. God imagined great things. Music played all day though the sun, perhaps it sounded like the rain, and everyone danced and laughed and sang all day until their legs were tired and loopy like spaghetti. So they all came together to a table that circled around the universe made of clouds. There was food for everyone. Nobody ever starved. Pitter patter pitter pat. It stops. Reality checks in, The clouds rise back into the sky and the sun stops singing. I cry for everyone because they don’t know what they lost.

I can hear my parents now. They yell so loud sometimes I think someone sat on the remote and accidentally pushed the volume all the way up on there throats. But when that happens on the television there is always someone to turn it down. When its my mom and dad, nobody does. I hear words. Sick, hate, stupid, money, worthless, b******. I don’t understand them but they sharp like knives. I put pillows between my ears and gaze around my bedroom. Princess’s and princes stare me down from there place on my wall paper. They wear pretty colors and clothes and have big castles and beautiful horses. I bet they don’t stick each other with sharp words. I imagine jumping off my bed into the paper and appearing in the picture. My mom and dad will come upstairs and look for me, but they will never find me. I will be sad but not enough to come back down, because I like soft, fluffy words better. The kind that wipe your eyes like tissues and those words live up here, so I must stay.


My thoughts are interrupted by a swish and a sounds like gravel being crushed by wheels. My mind buzz’s I imagine the ice cream man speeding down the road. Or my next door neighbor Caroline’s mom rolling into her driveway with her silver mini van. I jerk my neck from my pillow and shove my face against the window. My breath fogs up the window. I rub it away and I see my dads car missing from the drive way. Farther down the road his bumper is so far away I can hardly see it. I think back to before. The sharp words. They replay in my head like a broken record. Two keep repeating. The two I didn’t think through before because they are the pointiest of all and they hurt. “I’m. Leaving.”





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