Kami

Serious Post.

malfunction:

My life is turning into goddamn Requiem for a Dream.

I came home this morning (from my dad’s house) to pick up some things, and get on a clean pair of pants. There’s a strange letter on my bed, attached to which are some strange surveys for what seems to be a rehab program. I scan the letter, see it’s from my mother, and don’t really pay attention. I fill out the surveys, and the result is that I don’t have any sort of addiction problem. Satisfied, I go to school.

Right before sixth period, I see Andres, as I usually do. We talk a minute, and he mentions that he plans to just leave school and get drunk at home (presumably alone) after being out sick for two days. I’m taken aback—it’s not really like him, but, then again, I guess it is. I tell him that I don’t want him to leave, he kisses me goodbye, and walks away.

I see him once again right before lunch (seventh period), and he says he’s leaving the school. I don’t see him for the rest of the day (when I usually would), so I assume he left.

I come home, slightly disconcerted by these events, and come back up to my room. The letter is still there on my bed, and I read it again to refresh my memory; I remembered it simply as my mother trying to guilt-trip me for smoking.

She is completely heartbroken, and doesn’t see me anymore as a sweet, loving girl. She still loves me, but at this point, it’s only because of her parental instincts to do so. In essence, she’s given up hope of trying to change the way I am and the things I do. It’s what I’ve wanted all along.

Andres hasn’t called or IMed me, like he usually does.

I folded up the letter and hid it in a box in my closet.

Then I cried.

Maybe not smoke weed so much?

…huh?