Work, home, party. Work, home, party. Work, home, party.
I felt like I was living three lives. My home life, I was still the obedient and quite child my mother and father had raised me to be. Work life, there was a certain level of professionalism that I didn't show anywhere else, after all I needed money to party. Party life was just that, P.A.R.T.Y!!!
One morning after making my bed I had a strong feeling to stash my journal in the trunk of my car. My mother had a history of reading my journal, Now I need to take a moment to defend my mother. I understand that she probably sensed that something was wrong. Her motherly intuition kicked in and knew I had a deep, dark, and scary secret. I wish now that I would not have mistaken that concern she had for betrayal. I had a history of not talking or sharing my feelings with my mother. Now, The nosy reader will be thinking right about now,Why not? Well, that's another story. Let's continue the original story.
I convince myself that taking my journal with me to work was silly and paranoid. Hoping now that I am an adult my mother will be better at respecting my privacy. I went to work without another thought of that journal.
A few hours later as I was cooking some french fries when my manager call me back into the office and hand me the office phone. Which was only intended for emergency purposes. On the other line were the sobs and heavy voice of my mother and father, ordering my immediate return home. When I asked why, all I heard was. "We read your journal." I rushed out the restaurant at full speed crying harder than I had in a long time. My co-workers and managers only had time to shoot worried looks my way.
It was about an hour drive home, so I had some time to think. And, MAN! Did I think! I thought and thought and thought. I thought about how I hated my parents, myself, my life. I thought of the hurtful things I have written about them and the destructive secret life that I was living. Focused on the road ahead of me I started to fall into a deep and dark trance, becoming hypnotized by the yellow line passing under my vehicle. I felt like I was floating, lost in my dark and lonely dream world as if I were truly asleep. The numbing feeling that overwhelmed me was welcomed by trance.
I remember how easy it was to make the decision when I saw the oncoming semi truck. The horn of the truck was getting louder but sounded as if I was in a tunnel. The headlights were frantically flashing. As the screeching and smoke coming from the tires of the truck I thought about how poetic this would be, seeing how my dad is a truck driver. A slight smile emerged in the corner of my mouth as the driver had slammed on the brakes. My right foot felt heavier, resulting in my car going almost 100 mph.
All at once, the face of my youngest sister popped into my head. Crying, wearing all black, sitting in church. I couldn't do that to
her, at only 10 years old it seemed unfair and wrong to confound her with death of her
sister by suicide. Just as effectively as a glass of cold water, my dream had been abruptly interrupted when I snapped into reality. My dream was in fact a nightmare. I pulled my steering wheel as hard as I could over to the left; slamming my foot on the break with such force I would have thought my foot touched pavement. The smell of burning rubber filled the air as I jostled the car right and left trying to find steady ground.
The car finally came to a stop and the dust around the car settled. It was then I noticed how white my knuckles and cramped my fingers were. I didn't even notice that I had stopped crying but my eyes were still swollen red from before. I just went through a hurricane of emotions but I was still numb. I decided I would face my parents, but I would not talk. I made a decision. I would do what I always did. I would bury this. I decided, just as I always did, nobody cares and it didn't matter.