Thursday, April 28, 2011

Pressure

Third year university.  Four mid-terms essays co-op interviews credit line maxed out three roommates always home no space boyfriend distant parents don’t call so fat so hungry can’t fail can’t breathe.  Shift books from one aching arm to another as I turn the key in the lock.

Fluttering white silence everywhere.  Couch, cupboards, countertop covered in paper accusations.  Clean up these dishes!  All dishes the same size should be in the same stack.  Couch cushions must be lined up diagonally against the seam.  The rug must be kept centered evenly under the coffee table.  Only one pair of shoes allowed at the front door.  Temperature must stay at 20 degrees.  Countertop must be wiped down with a damp cloth after every use.  TV screen and tables must be dusted every day.  Clean the glass on the meadow picture and the bay window.  Try all you like, you’ll never be good enough.  You’re not even worth talking to face to face.

Standing in my room with pliers twisting my intestines, while she waves pieces of passive-aggressive confetti under my nose, shouts pounding against my skull.  The tightness in my chest explodes and I’m moving, hand raising, shaking and all I can see is her stupid thin lips still pursing in her white face, and God I just want to slap that fucking freckled cheek so hard my red hand will sting.  And my arm goes past her face and I’m screaming get out, get out, pulling the bedroom door past her so wildly the room shakes as the door slams in its frame.

Crank the stereo UP.  They’re pounding on the door and I turn it up and up until I’m wrapped in music, and this is all gone, just me and the bass. 

Walking back in the next day with boyfriend in tow, and forks stop in mid-air, bits of scrambled egg smearing on the table.  Bright gorgeous smile as I flip them the bird and sing Hey bitches!  What’s up? while boyfriend hangs his head.  Because honey, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.  I’ve already done enough victim time for one lifetime, and you can kiss my fist if you think I’m cowering for a bully ever again.


(day 6 of the 30-day music challenge - a song that reminds you of somewhere: Fight Music by D12 (clean version because I'm just not that hardcore anymore...and I don't want to scare you))


12 comments:

  1. Oh gosh, that roommate situation does not sound fun :-(

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  2. Thank god those days are far behind me ... but maybe things are different downunder here in OZ? Or maybe some things are the same the world over.

    Have a great weekend!!

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  3. I loved the way you developed everything in short spurts. So much through so little.

    Loved the poetry in this line: "while she waves pieces of passive-aggressive confetti under my nose" and of course, I loved having the song embedded!

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  4. i feel like im back in my highscool brain with even just the first paragraph of this... wonderful writing. New follower from FTLOB #FabFriendsFridays

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  5. i had flashbacks of some roommate situations too.. blagh!! love the video included!

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  6. Roommates suck! I had some crazy ones, but not that crazy! Great writing! Stopping by from TRDC

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  7. I feel like I just took an acid trip. Sweet!

    Wish I'd have been there to see it!

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  8. I cannot even imagine... but you dragged me, kicking and screaming, into an awful situation.

    Well done.

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  9. This is an amazingly well written description... I totally want to slap the shit out of your roommate now, haha!

    Stopped in from the LBS tea party

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  10. Now, that's a bitch! Ugh, I don't like roommates. But you told your story well. I'm here from Red Dress Club.

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  11. some one looks like a character of nightmare movie! :(

    i hope its not true.

    http://magicthought.wordpress.com/2011/05/20/gossip-for-theme-thursdays-tt/

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Lend me some sugar!