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if she was honest, the room still smelled like cat piss, and she was on her last spray bottle of nature's miracle. it terrified her because she knew any error or mistake she made in this house would be "I knew it. I knew she couldn't handle it. what a mistake it was to...trust her."
and more abuse.
she was about to make herself go for a walk even though cutting the grass had been both fruitless (there were so many tall weeds the manual mower couldn't get to) and she had thought she was going to puke afterwards. She had puked on their year anniversary. she blamed it on the Kim chi hot dog she had gotten. Lord knows she didn't drink anything extra.
She was drunk a lot more than she knew was good, but she also knew that it was temporary. she was using it as self-medication from feeling
fucking rejected - by someone who should not have rejected her.
she laughed a little bit at that - bitterly of course.
she didn't want to go on a walk seeing the kids strolling their cat peanut butter. It was too annoying to have to speak to people that were just innocent abandoned kids. She also avoided the yard that often had the kids outside playing. For some reason, all people annoyed her. it had been a shit long weekend. absolutely nothing fun to report. nada. zilch. zero. She had whinged about fucking Leon. She had had some temper tantrums about the cats. She had whined to her mother. How could she expect anyone to really care. but she had hoped.
the yard didn't look super terrible to her. she enjoyed the overgrown bushes and the vines growing out of the concrete onto the brick, but she knew her stepfather would not speak to her except in short "how could you not have seen this." "why didn't you tell me". she would have no mercy from those quarters - or more accurately, all the mercy allotted for her had been given. "you're on your own kid."
and that was fine sometimes. sometimes, she was good with it- maybe about ten minutes a day. Like yesterday, she was in her usual Sunday spot after waffling and thought "well, this is OK". but she always felt she was disappointing anyone that might like her. she disappointed everyone - at some point.
It did no good to complain. but it's all she wanted to do. It probably wasn't about Leon anymore and had moved on to more existential "am I fucking going to be alone forever" sort of things. It made her sad.
what didn't.
this time last year, she had had zero cats. she was peppy ..."oh shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill you." she had been trying to shoo a tired fly out her tired window, but when she touched it, she accidentally killed it because it didn't move.
then she was swift about it and made sure it was out of its misery.
make your own metaphor.
it was hot. she was kind of hopeless, but maybe she'd lose a pound or two in a week or so. that would be so amazing. not really. she was just being sarcastic.
to survive.
"Drink!"
"an anti-depressant pill"
"maybe you might want to get the doctor to give you a larger dose"
"yes mother." (but it won't work).
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