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I feel it in my hands, and I am so angry. My fingers are buzzing. I can hear you talking. But it bleeds into noise too quickly and I forget what you’re saying. You talk and talk and talk and the noise keeps building and I get really angry. I don’t like you. You talk too quickly. You’re smarter than me. I think Dad Boss likes you better too. Doesn’t matter anyways. I hate you.
My joints are hurting again. That makes me angry too. I hate being in pain and I hate it when there’s too much noise. I can’t make myself stop hurting, but I can make the noise stop.
…But that hurts you instead. You’re already on the floor, though. I don’t remember swinging. Now Boss is yelling. So much for turning off the noise. I can’t see anymore and I think that’s because I’m crying, but that’s stupid because why would I be crying?
You’re just a smudge of dull magenta bobbing through my vision. Then I’m outside and that’s a little scary because I don’t remember walking out. It doesn’t matter. My hands are on the wood railing. There’s no noise anymore. I still can’t see. My joints still hurt too, but maybe a little less now. It still sucks.
My eyes are burning. I can see now, though. Being outside is nice. I don’t feel so angry when I’m outside. Less noise. Plus the wind feels nice when I get too hot. From being angry. I don’t like being angry. Being angry makes me angry. Somehow. Being scared makes me angry too. It’s stupid.
The porch railing is starting to splinter in my hands. Boss would probably yell at me for that too. He’s always yelling about something. Something about money, mostly. Or me. Boss never yells at you. My wrists hurt. I hate it.
I wonder if being in pain can cause someone to drop dead. Probably. People die pretty easy. I’m going to die one day. For some reason, that makes me angry too. Boss said sometimes people can die of a broken heart. I think that’s stupid. It’s bright outside. The sun is nice. I don’t like thinking about dying.
Sometimes I think about you dying. I feel bad about that, but I know you don’t like me either. That’s why you always keep the lights off so I’ll run into things and why you keep the thermostat a million degrees inside. Even in the summer. Whoever decided that black fur should get so hot deserves to get kicked in the shins.
I’m still on the porch when the sun starts setting. Boss probably said I should come inside a couple of hours ago. I don’t remember. It doesn’t matter really. I don’t think I’m angry anymore. It’s getting too cold now. My joints are hurting again, bad. I don’t want to go inside. Everyone’ll look at me. I don’t like being looked at. Feels scary bad. So I keep my head down when I do go inside. I don’t want to look at anyone either, anyways.
I should probably apologize to you. I think that would make me angry again, so I don’t. I think maybe you like it when I’m angry. I always screw up when I’m angry. Boss is saying something to me again. He’s not yelling, but I’m too tired and sore to care. I hate being sore after doing nothing. Hate, hate, hate, hate. I hate everything.
Not true. I like being outside. I think I hate everything else, though. Well. I don’t hate the kids either. They’re okay. They’re loud sometimes but it’s okay. They’re little. I can’t be angry at them because they’re little and they don’t understand that yelling gives me a headache. Or that hanging on my arms makes my shoulders hurt. I’m not mad. They’re little. I’m scared.
I’m afraid I’m going to really hurt someone bad someday. You don’t count. You hurt me too so it’s fair. I still have a scar from the last time you hurt me with your fancy knives that Boss lets you keep for some reason. Maybe we fight too much. I don’t care. You make me angry so I don’t like you.
I accidentally slam my door behind me and the noise sucks. It makes me feel like crying again. My hands are going numb. That happens sometimes. It sucks too. Boss says it’s ‘cause I have too much energy in my body. He never makes any sense. I’m too tired all the time to have ‘too much’ energy in my body.
When I lie down there’s nothing to look at. I don’t like having stuff. Takes too much effort to look after everything. Boss doesn’t get me anything anymore. I told him not to. It’s for the best. My eyes are starting to burn again.
I’ll apologize to you in the morning. My everything hurts. I hope you have a nightmare tonight. I wish we could get along. I hate you. I feel it buzzing in my head, and I am so scared.
The buzzing isn’t so bad anymore. I’m on my own now, so maybe that’s why. I think I might still hate you, though. But only a little bit.
The stars are pretty tonight. Actually they’re always pretty. I think I’m getting homesick. Which is weird, ‘cause I don’t think I ever really liked living with any of you. Home is home I suppose.
I like to think I’ve learned a lot on the road, but my joints still ache and sometimes I still get angry. I kicked someone’s teeth in a few months ago. He deserved it I think. I don’t really remember why I did it. I try not to start fights anymore. I still get angry.
There’s a lot of different people on this planet. Lotta different places too. I’m glad I left. My hands are going numb again but I think this time it’s because I’m laying on them. Sometimes I wonder if Boss Dad is proud of me. He’s not really my dad. Too young. Or I’m too old.
It’s weird. Everyone is so far away now. It’s late. I should probably go to sleep. The moon is in pieces. I can hear that little yellow furball snoring next to me. I guess I’m not really on my own. I wish he hadn’t come with me. I’m glad he did. I’m still afraid.
I think I’m more afraid than angry these days. Sometimes. I spend a lot of time thinking too. Maybe too much.
Headache.
Maybe I’ll come home one day. Not too soon, though. I don’t think you want to see me. That’d be okay. I don’t know if I want to see you either. Not right now. I don’t think I ever apologized to you. It doesn’t really matter. I hope you’re happy, though.
There’s cicadas chirping. They’re loud. I think we’re due the 17-year ones this year. Or the 13-year ones. I was never a good detective. I like being outside. Even when it’s cold.
My joints are starting to hurt again. I wish they didn’t. I should’ve brought an extra blanket. I’m not so angry anymore, I think. The buzzing feels far away.