I am quite lonely here, despite the familiarity of the air. But you see, I am not alone. My mother sits in her room upstairs, my step-dad in his office across the hall. Always here but never together, I don’t think they like each other very much.
My father said he’d call today, but that was hours ago and the phone still hasn’t rang. I should have expected it, this happened last week too. I don’t want to speak to him, necessarily, though it would be nice if he called. It would be nice to see a promise fulfilled every once in a while.
I feel so unfathomably lonely in my childhood bedroom. Well, not my childhood bedroom, technically. That sits far, far away from here, in a little room along the beach and close to an airport. I grew up with the planes landing and taking off, told time through how low they were to the ground. No, this room sits near a freeway, where I spent my teenage years screaming along with the cars and my cries drowned out by their horns.
There is something more devastating in this room than the last. Something lingers within it, a ghost clinging to the walls, watching the paint peel. We said we would paint this room years ago, we say lots of things in this house. We don’t get around to most of them. I’ve grown used to promises becoming simple sentences, said and then forgotten.
My father still hasn’t called. I’m debating turning my phone off, debating going to bed, but if I go to bed there will be no reason to stop these thoughts. The ghost will watch me turn in my sleep, and my parent’s voices will carry through the vents. I will have no choice but to listen to arguments that begin and never really stop. I used to believe this was their love taking form, and then I grew up. In this room, years ago now, there lies a faint moment. Barely a memory. A realization, a conclusion I came to on a night not dissimilar to this.
The conclusion was this: there has never been love in this house. I feel sorry for the ghost I’ve trapped within it, at least I got to leave. At least it’s here keeping me company, two souls interwoven in loneliness and shrouded in tragedy. You know, this ghost is growing familiar as well. Perhaps we will merge into one, eventually. Wouldn’t that be something.
I am so incredibly lonely in this teenagers bedroom. I think a part of me has always will be.
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tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty