“Hello Alone” is a song written and performed by Anberlin. Yes, that is all I wish for right now, to be ALONE, yet not lonely. I feel stressed, upset, angry, and annoyed. Why? You ask. Well, my family of six has taken in another family, of three girls ages 13 and 8 and I’m not quite sure how old their mother is. Let’s call them Abby, Layla, and Lacey.
My father works with their mother Abby. It is selfish of me to want them out of my personal space, but I’m not the kind of person who shares easily, especially when it comes to sharing my home. I’ve been keeping myself locked up in a little office down in our basement. No one is to dare to bother me. Taming my addiction to the internet by answering emails, blogging, reading, and listening to music. Sharing a room with a thirteen year old sure is a hassle. I love the quiet except for when it comes to music. To not feel the need to speak to others when I don’t feel the need to. All the thirteen year old, Layla does is talk. About, boys, how gay people are “butt pirates”, and sex. All of which freaks me out, nauseates me. It annoys me that she is so homophobic *mutters under breath*. I answer her with mostly “uh-huh”s, “hmm”s, “yeah”s. One thing is for sure, she is friggen’ boy crazy. I’ve never had a boyfriend and I honestly don’t care to. Besides kids at this age are effing morons, UGH! Layla keeps me up late at night when all I want to do is escape to the comfort of my own room.
Oh man, and her younger sister Lacey *sigh*. Whenever Layla comes near her she squeals and whines. Layla of course tells her to shut up and then hits her for no reason! I get mad at my siblings, but I don’t torture them all the time. Their mother is disgusting. She farts and makes disturbing jokes, she also likes one of our neighbors, we’ll call him Stan. Stan works with my dad too, my father was kind enough to help him find a place to stay. “Conveniently” a couple houses down from ours (har har). My parents gave my siblings and I the choice to help our visitors out, and my mom didn’t seem to keen on the idea, yet my dad seemed excited. I reluctantly said yes not knowing how big of a mistake I had made. I should have known. Though as I’ve told you I really dislike school, well I’m more fond of it now. It seems to be my escape. I don’t care if kids mess with me or if a teacher is mean, those people do not live with me. My fear is coming back home to a house full of people.
Last night I asked if my mother could run me to Barnes and Nobel because I had babysitting money leftover. I took my youngest sister Eleanor, our “babysitter”, and my aunt Sherry. I was looking for “Watchmen”, which I sadly couldn’t find. Spending most of my time in the young adult books I found “Glass” by Ellen Hopkins and “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” by Ned Vizzini. Eleanor saw her friend Lily with her mothers at Barnes and Noble which was nice because they are some of the nicest people. Once I had decided on which books I was purchasing I went down to the second floor and looked for a new issue of an Alternative Press magazine which I couldn’t find. Instead I grabbed a Teen magazine because Robert Pattinson was the main picture on the front cover, SQUEE!! Getting coffee and reading books is a good combination. I shared a mocha frappuccino with my mother and six year old sister Eleanor along with a peanut butter cookie, YUM! Barnes and Noble is my other escape place. Books, music, coffee, magazines the whole deal. I’d love to sit there for hours just browsing the store *sigh*, if only it were that simple. I feel guilty for having these feeling towards the family and venting to those who honestly do not give a care, yet I’ve been told my feelings are still valid. I sulk while my mother is driving us back home. My aunt Sherry and I tell Eleanor that if anyone asks you say, “Um… we went to Target and somewhere else I forgot.” If Eleanor wanted to tell anyone she could call our aunt Sherry.
I stuck the Teen magazine in the back of my shirt, the book “Glass” under my armpit the inside of my shirt and “It’s Kind of a Funny Story” hidden inside my mom’s purse. I zipped to my room and unloaded my shirt as my mother snuck in handing me the book. I set the book on my book shelf so they didn’t look new. Eleanor crawled back to my room “Um, Phoen-” “Okay I’ll be there in a minute.” I said. She strode into the bathroom waiting. Aunt Sherry talked to her for about three minutes and until Eleanor ended the conversation.
Yesterday I had a half day at school, getting home at about 12:30 or so. The first thing I do is change from my school uniform. I listen to a song or two on one of my Taking Back Sunday albums and my mom left to go back to work and I took off down the steps. I’m in the nice cold basement opening the office door, I am already at the computer. Checking and replying to emails as usual. I had swiped one of my new books to read (“It’s Kind Of a Funny Story” by Ned Vizzini to exact). I spent two hours on the computer and one whole hour reading. Yes it was delightful until my younger brother and sister barged into the room (which I thought I locked) with toy guns. “GET OUT!!” I screamed impatiently, clenching my jaw. I came upstairs at about three thirty, skipping off to my room to read some more. Paranoid, I kept hearing car doors slam, is it them? Until finally my “babysitter” told me they had arrived. I let out a dramatic sigh. Layla dragged her things back into MY room. “Hello,” said Layla, “Mm, hi.” I grunted. She was talking to me about school as I just nodded then she took a nap. I straightened up my room and left hearing the kids messing with Polly Pocket, our English bulldog mix. She had nipped at Eleanor because Lacey and my brother Hal wouldn’t leave her alone. I’m not quite sure why I was so mad, though smoke was fuming from the head. I wanted to punch something, someone, to scream in their face and throw a fit. Instead I locked myself back in the basement office. I stayed there until it was dinner time, stomping up the stairs to smell a disgusting mess of food which Abby had prepared. Two words. Ugh, spaghetti. I shuffled over to my father asking, “Do I have to eat?” I was expecting a “Yes, you do.” Instead to my surprise he replied, “No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” An easy battle, eh?
I’ll soon have more stories for you all, just wait *wink*.