I pulled into the driveway this morning and heard it within minutes: bickering. I did not miss this. Believe it or not, you do not need argue about everything just because you can. I don't care how normal you think this is; I've witnessed plenty of parents or spouses lead peaceful, happy lives where the word "compromise" is not only understood but put into use on a normal basis. No, I may not always be right, but I am with this; I have proof. Look around, look at your peers.
I hate the stubbornness I acquired from my family. It's such an unattractive quality. And I'm by no means using my youth as an excuse, because that would be such a double standard coming from me, but I understand stubbornness better coming from a "young, developing soul" such as myself as opposed to someone with children and life experience/encounters that I have yet to see. Aren't those things supposed to teach you something? open your eyes? So when your daughter is (God forbid) pointing out that nothing has changed when it comes to you and your fiancee finding it necessary to argue about every little thing, and at this rate maybe never will, why must you cut me off mid-sentence? I don't care who you are, that is just rude, and no one appreciates it. I don't care how old you are, you are still capable of being wrong...and I think you learned to take constructive criticism in what, 5th grade?
Moving on, I open the back door and see my room...my yellow is now white, my lace curtains are gone, my bed is moved and clad in ugly blue plaid, new furniture replaces my "shabby chic" dresser. WHAT?! No, no no. It's been a week. And my brother lives here twice a month. And the guest room isn't even a guest room. NO. A week in college is not an adequate amount of time to feel at home, settled in. Even if I was terribly homesick, I don't even have a home to be sick over now. I mean, I wrote poetry about that room, for God's sake!
Yellow
I am locked here in this tiny yellow cell,
and more than one contradiction with me:
One, I hold the key
Two, the bad is out while the good is in
the bad can frolick while I, the supposed good, can only imagine
The supressors may roam, the suppressed may not
Again, though, the suppressed lays claim to the key that keeps her
Keeps her in and away, but all the while with her thoughts,
the only possessions besides the key to keep her sane
The yellow is not padded, although she fears it should be
Call it a sabbatical, if you will, for the troubled mind
Of the oppressed.
Of the melo-dramatic.
Of the hateful.
This tiny yellow cell, this tiny yellow sanctuary
More contradictions.
I cannot see you, one who is also bound, but I can dream.
The reason for all this yellow, this sanctuary
Outside I am angry, Inside I am hopeful
I'm a little dramatic, but I feel a little homeless right about now. I have so many memories in an imaginary place.
