I Was Meant For The Stage

I really do live one of those dramatic, screwed up television- show lives. People who listen to backwards, simpering tales of my life and use barrowed ears to hear some of the things that go on in the Heusel household blame these so-called "fallacies" on simplicities such as irradic adolescent behavior and teenage whims for attention. Most commonly I hear, is the belief that all teenagers are melodramatic and tend to "make a mountain out of a molehill." Honestly, the fight I-- WE (Erik and I) are fighting is a battle without mercy or humanity; driving a 46 year old woman to a fro to places because she is too drunk to do it herself is hardly the usual menial taskwork an 18 year old teenager does. Being told that anything we care for or feel for or love is meaningless to her, and, even less meaingless to us is the possessions and monetary statuates that she holds over our heads each and every day. What she does not understand, what she will never understand, is that we could care less about money or items or things, we want love; we just want our own mother to care for us like a mother should. To take into account our feelings, to understand that things are still really hard for us, and that we want to be there for her, but how can we, when she won't let us. The saddest part about this whole thing is that she could read this right now, and still feel no remorse or pain and even if she did she would not handle it like a mature adult and she might even slam the door and yell about how selfish we are, to, heaven help us, tarnish her snooty country club reputation. And she wonders why we have no respect for her. How can we respect someone who cannot respect themself. Stumbling in every night in a state of drunken stupor and letting her kids do virtually anything they want hardly qualifies for mother of the year award. Things could be worse and we do have a lot to be thankful for; we can accompish our tasks without the normal restrictions that parents give to their kids and yet, sometimes I wish she could just put her foot down and tell me no. Things have not progressed much since my dad died, and I miss him more and more each day. People say I'm making him proud and stuff, but the hard facts are that he is gone. There is nothing I can do on this earthly world that he can percieve and see or care about, although I wish that wasn't the case. I will be very sad on days like graduation and my college acceptance letter coming in the mail because these are dates he and I planned for many years. I will especially miss him at my wedding, I had always hoped in my mind that even if he had to roll in a wheel-chair to take me down the isle, I would walk it as slow as he needed, as long as he was holding my hand the whole way. There are innumerable things I want to say to him, that I should have said to him, but I have to keep a stiff upper-lip and remain steady and dependable for my brother, because if he can't count on anyone how can I live knowing i'm letting him down just like my mother.