Prozac Nation: My Own Words, chapter 2
NO! I won't let you take her!
She's my daughter just as well! And you're pissed 'cause if you file for divorce the court will send Kim with me!
GO AWAY! Just go! I don't want to see you again! Get out!
(Holds woman firmly by the shoulders). Stop shouting! If you dare to stop me you'll regret it for the rest of your miserable life. You'll regret it, by hell you will!
You don't know what you're talking about. I can smell the beer on your breath. You won't take Kimberly! You won't take her away from me again. And I won't let you!
Oh, so that's what you think. Do you want to see how much I care?
I wake up. I feel the cold sweat on my forehead. The glowing green numerals on my alarm clock say it's 3:25am. My hands shake as I try to calm down. That's when I realize that what was trickling down my cheeks wasn't part of any kind of sweat. They were tears, cold and stinging. I was surprised. I never tend to cry, in fact, I hated to cry. But this memory stayed vivid in my mind. The image of my father hurting my mother was burned into my retinas. And after that, he left. And I hated him for it. And he used to hurt me, too. And I want to sleep, but I can't. I'm tired, but the pillows feel hard. And I want quiet, but the words are carved into the back of my pupils as I hear them over and over again.
I go downstairs, careful not to wake my aunt. Right now all I can do is keep my mind entertained. A nice dose of TV and junk food should do it. I should really clean those windows. I search for the chips, and a soda, too. Oh, shit, the dog peed in the corner.
Before I sit, I turn the pillows of the white couch around. It's like it has two personalities. The good Kim that keeps the couch gleaming, and the slob Kim, the one that always spills the soda. Great, now I can't find the remote. Wait, it's right here, beside the—OH, CRAP, A REPORT FROM MY SHRINK?! I better burn this. I feel on the brink of insanity. Argh, I just discovered that junk food stains just as well. And now I feel positively out of my mind.
She's my daughter just as well! And you're pissed 'cause if you file for divorce the court will send Kim with me!
GO AWAY! Just go! I don't want to see you again! Get out!
(Holds woman firmly by the shoulders). Stop shouting! If you dare to stop me you'll regret it for the rest of your miserable life. You'll regret it, by hell you will!
You don't know what you're talking about. I can smell the beer on your breath. You won't take Kimberly! You won't take her away from me again. And I won't let you!
Oh, so that's what you think. Do you want to see how much I care?
I wake up. I feel the cold sweat on my forehead. The glowing green numerals on my alarm clock say it's 3:25am. My hands shake as I try to calm down. That's when I realize that what was trickling down my cheeks wasn't part of any kind of sweat. They were tears, cold and stinging. I was surprised. I never tend to cry, in fact, I hated to cry. But this memory stayed vivid in my mind. The image of my father hurting my mother was burned into my retinas. And after that, he left. And I hated him for it. And he used to hurt me, too. And I want to sleep, but I can't. I'm tired, but the pillows feel hard. And I want quiet, but the words are carved into the back of my pupils as I hear them over and over again.
I go downstairs, careful not to wake my aunt. Right now all I can do is keep my mind entertained. A nice dose of TV and junk food should do it. I should really clean those windows. I search for the chips, and a soda, too. Oh, shit, the dog peed in the corner.
Before I sit, I turn the pillows of the white couch around. It's like it has two personalities. The good Kim that keeps the couch gleaming, and the slob Kim, the one that always spills the soda. Great, now I can't find the remote. Wait, it's right here, beside the—OH, CRAP, A REPORT FROM MY SHRINK?! I better burn this. I feel on the brink of insanity. Argh, I just discovered that junk food stains just as well. And now I feel positively out of my mind.
