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Losing my Home

Sometimes I wonder when my family got this way.
We used to be a normal family with a fair share of love and problems too. But now, the walls between our lies run as thick as cement. It’s rare that the place I return to everyday ever feels like a home, more like just another place filled with broken souls. When did daddy’s smile fade to a frown? And when did mom exchange her wedding ring to put the second payment down? When did we stop caring about each others’ lives? When was this ‘home’ carved apart with knives?

It feels like that this is the only way I’ve ever known, but something inside me tells me this jail was once my home. Before mom always told me I was no good, she used to tuck me into bed and tell me stories late at night. And daddy used to be a dad to me. He taught me how to play sports and to stand up for what is right. Now, however, right and wrong run a similar path and integrity’s far left. Momma’s always yelling about how nothing ever gets done, but I just bite my lip and smile like the past was never there.

From my room, I hear the vacuum cleaner break the silence that this house has fallen to. I watch my sister fall as she tries to move on. May 3rd lingers in our brains, as the date draws near. It’s the operation that could “save her life”, but that’s what they said about the other eight too. From behind my door I listen, as time keeps moving on, but things in this house never seem to change, they only stay the same. The thick white walls of our house protect others from the craziness inside, from what really goes on inside of our lives.

My room is my sanctuary protected by blue walls. If it wasn’t for the fact that the walls were so thin, and the yelling so loud I could have almost though I escaped this fate… but then again, the scariest thing in this place lives inside my room. With a crooked smile plastered to my face, no one would think anything was wrong.





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