I ran away. I got fed up and ran away from my mother. It's as simple as that. I don't fully understand what I was so mad about, but I needed out.
"I'm leaving." I said, slamming the door, grabbing my purse before departing.
"You can't just walk out! If you're not back in an hour..." her threat trailed off after me.
I called C, crying on the phone. She told me to be strong, then hung up, fending off questions from her mother. E, my best friend was far away from contact, skiing on the slopes, without a cell phone. J was skiing, beat the shit out of wimps who think they can ski as easily as they breathe.
I went to the Coffee shop, the quaint little one, with the ten-cent candies. I bought five dollars worth of candy, then went to my Dad's. I called him, he came and we talked, before phoning my mother.
She sat in the chair across from me as I yelled and abused her, telling her everything that is wrong with her, our, house family and relationship. She nodded, saying only "I'm glad you can talk to me." No comment on anything I had asked her. I was so mad. I couldn't believe it. I wanted to hit her.
"You fucked up your own life, I don't want to give you the chance to do the same to mine."
"Why the hell should I listen to you, when I'm the one who's taking care of my siblings?"
"You are a fucking coward who hides from responsibility behind your mother!"
all things I wanted to shout, spitting them into her face, all of which I was too much a coward to yell.
But I told her I was finished with the way things were, she promised to do better, but will she? She isn't so far, and it's been two weeks.
I feel so spoiled for running away. I don't think it was that big of a deal, I didn't need to... but I did, and I feel braver... I feel as if I can do what needs to be done, though I don't know what needs to be done. I feel brave.