And that’s how this “family” works. You keep your conversations at bare minimum, “where are you going? When will you be home?”. Never “why are you leaving? Why do you come home?”.
You live in fear that the truth might come out if you shed more than a bandaid could mask. The truth that you’ve never seen a place as broken as this house. Decaying with every tear and heart ache. To sleep in a quiet bed, what a wonderful idea. Instead, no matter how many machines are off- your thoughts are screaming into the darkness. A prison decorated with things you don’t have the money for, to impress people you don’t care about, to pretend your family is not poisoned. Once you leave, you never return. Only on holidays to give this “promised land” one more chance. Lying to yourself saying this meal won’t end like they have the last 16 years. New Years is nothing new, but missing family members taking everything but your pain. Thanksgiving is silent as you thank that your sister is old enough to drink her away her anger before dinner. Every day in between is like waking up with concrete blocks on your chest, and falling asleep in quick sand. There’s no happiness, nor hope. Just backwards ticking clocks awaiting the next broken departure.