Post by Zip on Oct 20, 2008 19:45:35 GMT -5
I know the pieces fit, 'cause I watched them fall away
Right when I walked through the door, my Dad seemed on edge.
Then again, he's always been a man of skittish tendencies. A failed perfectionist, an eager-to-please man, but stern all the same.
I only got worried when I saw the glass of Devil's Water in his hand. He's always so unbalanced, never thinks straight when he's on that shit.
His mind was buzzed, so it was harder to decipher what it was exactly that made him that way. It's a vicious circle--he gets upset, he drinks to forget, only to remember with a pounding headache the next morning, and repeats the process.
Instead of greeting him like I normally do, telling him the unconcerned lies of "It was okay" and "Nah", I fled to my room. He struck the door.
"Miss in-DIG-nant, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Rage filled his head, believing that I was ignoring him because I hated him. Where he got this idea...well, the alcohol's to blame, as usual.
"Getting out my homework," I lied, heading to my closet for my guitar. The door swung open.
"You and that damned guitar," he fumed, "I wish I never got the damned thing for you! You're never going to amount to anything just strumming! You gotta work back and forth between those strings, June!"
"Dad, I play for the feeling..."
"I'm just telling you, if you practice like how I taught you, then you'll get better! If you ignore me, like you are now, you're never going to get good!"
"So I'm bad?"
His mouth moved up and down for a few strokes, missing a beat or two.
"No, June, I didn't say that, I'm just saying, if you do it my way, you're going to get money!"
"Dad... I have homework. Please leave."
"Fine, June. I'm just telling you how it works."
We stood in silence, looking at each other. I was shaking, but didn't let it show. When he's like this, it's best not to show weakness. He's always hated that. I know it's because he thinks he's passed it onto me.
And that makes him think he's failed me.
He shrugged. His mind emptied, getting distracted by The Bottle in the kitchen. Shutting the door, he left me alone. I heard him.
I need a drink. How am I going to get out of this? What's going to happen to her? She can't live with her mom. I can't leave her alone. I can't take her with.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
There is just so much damn pressure. I have to keep both me and him happy. I'm more of a friend to him than a daughter. I have to succeed. I can't be him.
My mind wandered back to when I'd hear them arguing in the kitchen.
Always, the vision of a pair of eyes looking over them would come into my mind as I'd hear them hiss profanities at each other. My mother, a cunt. My father, a controlling bastard.
My fingers flew across the guitar.
'Schism', by Tool.
Right when I walked through the door, my Dad seemed on edge.
Then again, he's always been a man of skittish tendencies. A failed perfectionist, an eager-to-please man, but stern all the same.
I only got worried when I saw the glass of Devil's Water in his hand. He's always so unbalanced, never thinks straight when he's on that shit.
His mind was buzzed, so it was harder to decipher what it was exactly that made him that way. It's a vicious circle--he gets upset, he drinks to forget, only to remember with a pounding headache the next morning, and repeats the process.
Instead of greeting him like I normally do, telling him the unconcerned lies of "It was okay" and "Nah", I fled to my room. He struck the door.
"Miss in-DIG-nant, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
Rage filled his head, believing that I was ignoring him because I hated him. Where he got this idea...well, the alcohol's to blame, as usual.
"Getting out my homework," I lied, heading to my closet for my guitar. The door swung open.
"You and that damned guitar," he fumed, "I wish I never got the damned thing for you! You're never going to amount to anything just strumming! You gotta work back and forth between those strings, June!"
"Dad, I play for the feeling..."
"I'm just telling you, if you practice like how I taught you, then you'll get better! If you ignore me, like you are now, you're never going to get good!"
"So I'm bad?"
His mouth moved up and down for a few strokes, missing a beat or two.
"No, June, I didn't say that, I'm just saying, if you do it my way, you're going to get money!"
"Dad... I have homework. Please leave."
"Fine, June. I'm just telling you how it works."
We stood in silence, looking at each other. I was shaking, but didn't let it show. When he's like this, it's best not to show weakness. He's always hated that. I know it's because he thinks he's passed it onto me.
And that makes him think he's failed me.
He shrugged. His mind emptied, getting distracted by The Bottle in the kitchen. Shutting the door, he left me alone. I heard him.
I need a drink. How am I going to get out of this? What's going to happen to her? She can't live with her mom. I can't leave her alone. I can't take her with.
A tear rolled down my cheek.
There is just so much damn pressure. I have to keep both me and him happy. I'm more of a friend to him than a daughter. I have to succeed. I can't be him.
My mind wandered back to when I'd hear them arguing in the kitchen.
Always, the vision of a pair of eyes looking over them would come into my mind as I'd hear them hiss profanities at each other. My mother, a cunt. My father, a controlling bastard.
My fingers flew across the guitar.
'Schism', by Tool.