Sara: Life in prison

My body is imprisoned.

It’s true what they say when they say that prison makes you crazy. It does. You can’t even help it. What sucks more is that when the people you think you 'love' and who are "supposed" to 'love' you too imprison you and think it’s “for your own good”. NEWS FLASH; if it makes me cry, it isn’t good for me, it’s killing me. I’m dying. Emotionally I mean. I can feel it. I no longer wish to be on this earth. Every single thing makes me angry (It's probably just one of those days but still). Tell me. HOW IS THAT GOOD FOR ME? HUH?! ANSWER THAT. So it’s good that I think about different ways of dying every waking hour, it’s good that I cry myself to sleep? Great. Well if that’s the meaning of life and I’m supposed to be learning the lesson that life sucks everyday then you’re doing a grand job. Let me tell you-it’s just great. You have completely convinced me that there is no hope for me in the future because I’m planning on dying young (Emotionally. So technically I mean conforming.) now that I know how much life actually 'stinks'. Joyous isn’t it? So much has been happening and it won’t seem to stop. I can’t stand where I am. My mind is a continuous flow of curse words that are just waiting to escape my lips. I hate people. I hate humanity. I hate my prison guards. They don’t understand anything. They’re still living the life of parents 30 years ago. Times have changed. Learn that.

"People change, even the person you thought you knew the most, changes. And even though it hurts to see them go; you have to move on, for the memories are all you have, and things might never be the same."

I finished everything; I’ve done everything I can do for the moment. Now I have to let time do the rest. And yet I’m still punished. I’m still being beaten for doing better? Does that make sense to you? I’m just lying around the house, not doing anything. Because there is nothing to be done. Whatever I could be doing I’m not allowed to do. Isn’t life grand?

"You lost yourself in your search to find something else to hide behind. You gotta stand up and you gotta stand still, watch your back cause no one else will." – Lifehouse

My dad was going to let me off the hook for an hour, let me outside, let me breath air. But then…he talked to momma. You know how that is. So of course, I didn’t get the fresh air I so rightly deserved, and I didn’t even get an apology. I couldn’t even say what I was thinking because it would have started an argument and that’s the last thing I need right now. They say I have this “my way/ highway” attitude and I shouldn’t try to force what I want on them. Really? Is that what you guys have been teaching me in my life? How? Because my whole life you have been forcing what you want on me. It bothers me so greatly that some days…well. Forget it. Anyways, after my father talked to the mother figure he told me I couldn’t go.. He said something else, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was too angry. But I wasn’t about to show it on my face at that moment. I just wanted to get out of that room. I didn’t want them to talk to me and I didn’t want them to look at me. So I went upstairs where my little sister and her ugly-on-the-inside friend were in my room on the computer. I don’t know why but this made me even angrier, especially having to be surrounded by their terrible, fake energy. I calmed myself down and stared at the ceiling, just thinking. I thought ‘how much trouble would I get in if I just left?’ I wouldn’t. I’m a goody two shoes. I’m no rebel. But it was an interesting thought, and I was seriously curious. So I went down the stairs to ask my father. My mother was watching a movie at the time so I tried not to look at her while I went down the stairs. At some point there she asked me “You do understand why we’re doing this, right?” In my head I told her ‘No. I understand that you want me to be miserable which is exactly why you are letting me stay cooped up and letting me cry without batting an eyelash. I understand that by punishing me you reassure your sense of control over me, which you like. So now you should understand that until things change around here you are not hearing from me.” But instead I told her “yes”.

“Good” She nodded.

“Mhm.” I tried to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“I don’t like you’re pissed off tone of voice Sara.” She was obviously really pushing the curses out.

“Well I don’t like being held prisoner so I guess we’re both not happy.” Finally I said something slightly gutsy and went back upstairs, only half hearing what she was saying behind me.

The next time I came down I went and lied down on the floor in the den and stared at the ceiling. Tears would come and go, but my expression never changed. It was dark there. I refused to turn on the light, as if turning it on would signify that I felt hopeful in any way that things would get better for me. I know they won’t though. My math mark may go up and maybe I’ll get ungrounded. But me ever being truly happy is a doubtful thought indeed. I’m not saying this because I’m depressed, sure I know I will skim the feelings of happiness all the time, but I will never be truly engulfed in it. Because once upon a time, I opened up to someone. And I got them taken away too. That was the last time I was on the floor in the den, crying. I do that a lot lately, I’ve noticed. Crying, I mean. I cry over everything. I just saw my grandmother’s bed and started crying. My head hurts of it. I want to stop….

I'll still smile though. Nothing is going to take that from me. If all I'm going to do is skim happy then that's that. That's the way it is :).

"When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms." - Mary Oliver

My mind is imprisoned, and who wants a life imprisoned in safety?

At least I'm not embarrassed to tell you that I believe in miracles.