"I hate my life! I hate my life! I want to get out! I want all of this to end!" I screamed angrily into my pillow. It was not a loud scream, but a soft one with all the ferociousness and intensity from my body of a loud one... I do not have the privilege of letting out my frustrations for the neighbor and their dog to hear.
I live in a tiny 1800s house of less than 1,000 square feet. And unfortunately I am 23 and still live with my parents. (Whose bedroom is less than six feet from mine). So screaming and letting out extremities for all the world to hear is out of the question. Not to mention my two older brothers live in the room next to mine. (And the walls are paper thin.) Everyone was asleep except for me.
It was late into the night and my tears would not cease... I had been crying for about three hours and I wasn't even close to done. All this pent up emotion and anger stems from what, you ask? My answer: many different things. You might want to go grab a tea or a small snack, because this is a long story. I will however, try my best to keep it short. Which is truly a challenge for me being a storyteller at heart.
So here goes:
1.) I have just come back from living one month in California; Los Angeles to be exact. Why was I there? I went to a film school intensive. There I was surrounded by like-minded people, true creatives. I found my family. I had found where I belong. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like I was reaching for the stars when I spoke about my dreams of making movies one day.
The friendships I had formed were not with people who would tell me to keep my feet on the ground, get a good job, make money, keep a good credit score, and live the boring old plain-Jane run of the mill American dream. No, they were people who would encourage me, and tell me that my dreams where not far-fetched or impossible. That what I had in my heart was possible, and it would happen.
Unfortunately the program came to an end and I had to say goodbye to all of my newfound family. I had to go back home to boring old Ohio... Many of my friends actually were able to stay in Los Angeles and find apartments to live in. I didn't want to leave, but I had to. I had no more money left in my bank to allow me to live in pricey LA.
So back home I went to cow-town USA. In the weeks following I had major withdrawal from the environment of creatives who felt like family. Who made me feel seen and wanted. I felt free. But back in Ohio I felt squashed. Like someone was trying to smush me into a glass bottle that I was too big for.
2.) No money (self explanatory). Fortunately I had a job waiting for me when I got back to home.
3.) I hated (and still do hate) being back in Ohio so much so that with the little money I was earning from my part time job, I was trying plan a trip to London. Yes the United Kingdom. I would end up spending every last cent I had, but I was willing to do this in order to get out of Ohio. (Even if it was only for a few days... That's how desperate I am). It would be a birthday trip. To celebrate my 24th by going on my first solo trip. I was so excited, but at this point in time, I wasn't sure if I would be able to afford a plane ticket and a hostel.
4.) I live in a tiny house with my family. Its old and quite frankly needs to be torn down. The old concrete driveway is cracked and crumbling. It also has a big dip at the end, so if you are not careful when pulling in, you will scrape the front end of your car.
Stubborn mold grows in the one and only bathroom, which a coat of paint and scrubbing with bleach will not fix (trust me i've tried many times). This bathroom, shared by five grown adults, has no ventilation. So if you choose to take a hot shower, good luck getting your clothes on with all that steam swirling around.
The lightbulbs above the little tight nook where the toilet sits are all blown out. This makes the toilet area feel even smaller and creepier, because there is no light. So why don't you just change the lightbulbs you ask? Well, I would, but I can't because the fixture encasing the bulbs is rusted shut. Yes, rusted shut. It will not unscrew for anything. And to top it off, the fixture is so badly rusted that little flakes of the rust fall onto the toilet seat throughout the day (yuck). Behind the toilet there is a hole in the flooring where the wood is rotted through. So if you drop something, no body is going to reach their hand back there to find it.
There is mold growing in the basement due to flooding from years prior. Not to mention its just creepy and old and gross. The siding on the house was done shoddily, and pieces of it have fallen off, and are just laying scattered about in the front yard.
The roof of the house is not completely closed. The garage is not even attached to the house, and often we find bats living in it. And don't even get me started on the kitchen or even the backyard! This is just a few of the things that make my home life less than stellar. If you lived in this hell hole for the past five years of your life you'd want to leave too.
5.) (The main reason I was crying for more than three hours that night).
I just had a fight with my eldest brother... Well, it wasn't really a fight. Like I said before, we live in a tiny house. One of the things that we don't have is a laundry room. So where do all the dirty clothes get piled up? Right in the tiny hallway outside of my bedroom. Yes, it smells terrible. My mom asked me that day to clean the floors of this hallway. She said for me to put all of the overflowing stinky baskets of boy clothes in my brother's room so I could clean properly. So I did exactly what my mom had asked, like a good daughter should. I just didn't put the baskets back in the hallway. I figured my brothers could do that when they got home. No big deal, right? Wrong!
As soon as my brother had the opportunity he pounced. He told me in a very frustrated voice, that I should put the clothes back in the hall next time, and that I always do stuff like this. He then began to say (and I quote): "You know I don't want to believe this about you, but-" And that's where I stopped him. I knew what he was going to say and I didn't want to hear it. So I simply cut him off and said: "Then don't say it." I then walked away, and began my three hours of crying in my room.
"You're a spoiled brat!" those terrible words from my brother still ring in my ears, even though they were spoken years ago and he has since apologized. Those are the words I knew he was going to say, but I had stopped him from saying.
Now when I was a kid, I wasn't the nicest person to my brothers, but as I got older I grew out of those childish behaviors. I am by no means saying I'm perfect, because there are still times when I do things to irk them. But my heart is different than it was when I was a kid. And I truly believe that I have grown so much as a person, and have changed greatly. But my brother refuses to see that. He will not acknowledge my change. He blows up at me when the slightest thing bothers him. It hurts because he continually paints me as the villain in his life. I am at the point where I'm just so done with his bull and self-righteous manner.
Growing up I always felt like I was close to my brother, like I could tell him almost anything. I knew if I needed advice I could go to him. I knew if I needed him he would be there. But not anymore. Things have changed... I have changed, and my brother can no longer be apart of my inner circle anymore. There was just something so malicious about the way he confronted me that night. And I can't let my heart be open to any more pain. He doesn't know that I've cut him out, but he doesn't need to know. It will be hard because we live under the same roof, but it must be done.
... This of course is just a summary of all the things wrong in my life that have caused me to often say that I hate it. I have big dreams. I want to travel the world. I want to write best-selling novels and award-winning films. But right now I'm stuck in hicks-ville Ohio, and I don't see a way out...
To Be Continued...