Just Like You

     I walk straight through the doors, right past you, your god-forsaken couch, and the trash in your hands, on the TV, and all around you. I climb the stairs on tiptoe, although if I make noise, you would only grumble and complain. Nothing horrible, no screaming fits, no beat-downs. I don’t bother to say hello, and I’ve learned by now not to ask for a hug or to even dare the disappointment of yet another unanswered “I love you”. My room, raided again for cash to supply your dirty habit of alcohol and tobacco, is otherwise how I left it. The apple under my bed is untouched, thank god because it has been my breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the past three days. I would say something to you, ask you about meals, but I don’t want to risk getting accused of being an insubordinate child for god knows the thousandth time. I think about running away for the thousand and second time, and also think about you alone, trying to take care of yourself. I couldn’t do that to you, even if it means staying here for a while longer. I can survive, I hope. Some nights it gets so lonely. Is this how it is for all kids? Are you the best there is? I hear about the perfect families all the time, and even on TV there are examples. You watch a lot of that, why don’t you follow up? Can I really blame you, for sitting there all day, falling asleep on your couch, and being cranky when I wake you up to ask you something? Maybe you’re on to something. Maybe the world is just such a horrible place that that’s all you can do sometimes. I wish it wasn’t all the time. But who knows, maybe I’ll be just like you when I grow up.

Author's Note

Short story.. more like paragraph, but whatever. This is meant to be simply a thought from someone suffering neglect.