“How am I supposed to make you feel okay?
When all you do is look the other way?
I kinda wish you were gay.”
‘wish you were gay’ by Billie Eilish
I need to go to the woods. It’s been too long & this house makes me feel trapped.
I can paint the walls & rearrange things as much as I want, but it isn’t going to help, not as much as it’s needed.
I think I’ve decided on a light blue or borderline lavender for the kitchen.
The opposite of orange is blue, so it isn’t a complete contrast. It’s light & airy while being a little introspective. It will go well with the green outside the windows & the green I hope to put along the walls with more ivy-like leaves. I can’t remember the name of the plant, but I’m not going to look it up right now.
It difficult to find a good color that will suit the space well. I want to surprise my dad & my sister. I want them to walk in & feel like this old & stained house is a home, not just a structure to house our ghosts & poltergeists, of which there are too many, lurking in the corners & the dark at night.
Too many old rooms with bad corners & no light…
“Slow progress is still progress!” - A motto I have been living by lately, and by damn it, it really does work! It really works.
It’s hard to choose a color for the living room though… That one still blocks me.
It would be easier to gift my family a lovely living room with gorgeous painted & decorated walls if I knew who they really were. But my sister doesn’t talk to me - karma, I know… - and my dad doesn’t know how to be his own person, without revolving | Everything | around me & my sister.
Pretend that “everything” is typed in bold, because it should be.
I like the green hallways & what is now the old playroom, but it’s so dark. I’ve been thinking of painting over them in a lighter tone, but I’m sure I would on,y earn the further fury if my younger sister. So I won’t.
That was also one of the only recent days we were able to get along well enough to go to Home Depot & choose a color.
I really thought that would be a great family-bonding activity, painting the old, ugly, blotched walls… But it turned out to be primarily a task the men, my dad & I, filled for her. I’m really sick of feeling like the women in this family get to sit on their asses while the men do the fucking work themselves, but that’s all related to the Queen Couch & Dog Hair herself.
I don’t want to go to the memorial… I have to, I know I do… I just really don’t want to…
Especially after my sister finally got the balls to scream at me, twice.
Honestly, I should be impressed. As an older brother, when we were kids, I thought my older sibling duty of “tormenting” her was sometimes just a lesson, a lesson in how to stand up for your damn self. She never did though. She’s always been too shy, and cowardly, says the hateful suicidal teen I keep locked in the back of my head & my heart. I miss him too though. He hates the World.
I was going to frustratedly add something about how I should just leave. I don’t have to wait for permission to travel, I can just go.
I guess I’ll write about that one later, because the introspection of my house & the light lavender or cyan walls of the kitchen looks beautiful in my mind, and breathes like Hope. Hope is good, and there have been so many beautiful treasures to see outside that kitchen window.
I’ll choose to think about that instead, as I eat my food & watch the birds, the leaves & the butterflies.
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