Having the evening pass by, spoiling our meals. Not really a great thing, especially when I have to do my job tomorrow and we still have some homework that needs to be done. I hope he forgets our fight or just decide not to go through in killing me. Kind of pathetic standards of hope I have these days. Is hope a good that remained in the box or a manifestation of evil? Ugh.
"Lets get back, I need to make dinner soon,"
Over the creek and through patches of trees.
To a trailer house we go.
We were welcomed back by sleeping jack-ass laying on his back with his mouth towards the ceiling. As much as we hate it, we still rely on him (for now at least). Archie went to the living room, checked Mitch's pulse, turn him on his stomach and placed his head over the bin so won't likely suffocate on his puke if he throws up, while I went into the kitchen. I swept the broken glasses from the floor and dumped it in a, mopped all the tiles, before turning on the stove. Bringing a pot of water to a boil for potatoes I peeled and chopped, then had the another burner heated on high to fry our meat until they were golden brown and at safe temperature. I poured oil and a little fat out before I added some broth, corntarch and butter to the pan. Dawny helped in the mashed potatoes while I stirred constantly so that the gravy won't be clumpy. The frozen vegetables were microwaved last minute.
The table was set, so was the tray I brought to the living room. I had Mitch's pulse checked again, still alive, still relatively consistent. I bagged the empty bottles so we could turn them in for a little chunk of change early in the morning and wiped the coffee table before I ate.
Just because I live with a slob and attitudes here can be nasty doesn't mean we have to live in a pig sty. ...
I wonder what it'll be like when my brothers and I have our own place? Where would it be and how favorable the site and conditions be there? What jobs should I have and how many? Would I only be able to provide enough for us to barely scrape by? Stupid shit load of concerns rattle through my brain. Making me want to check over what I saved as soon as I finish polishing the dining table and kitchen counter; clean, dry and put away the dishes; be reassured that all the windows and the door was closed locked so we don't get mugged and murdered by a creep; as well as lock barricade our bedroom since there were times Mitch fucking tore the damn door off its hinges or destroy the shitty knob.
I have a lot of wishes are going through my head.
Often revolving around a vast amount of dread.
Wishes is a longing or desire that often involve things difficult to obtain.
I'm doing what I can to find a strong momentum to maintain.
On a tight rope between child and adult,
Though moving forward is my only default.
I wish for things to be simpler and safer,
Or on this tight rope, I be a faster pacer,
Though I have try to keep myself steady even though it feels agonizingly slow.
I don't believe I have a safety net to catch me from down below.
I want to feel safer, I want to be on secure, solid grounds.
not feel so many gyrations, shakes, ups and downs.
I'm terrified that one day when I struggle on the rope.
I'll be dangling until I rot in agony with nothing else, not even any hope.