09.25.20 | 242 pm

words like thunder raining down outside my window pane

their screams and stomping feet thundered over the sound of rain overflowing from my gutters and i cowered in my bed like i was four years old again.

trauma is a funny thing.

i pictured their daughter, who didn't have the safety of a fence and layers of walls to separate her from their chaos, probably similarly cowering in her bed under her covers. i desperately wanted to go over and steal her away, hug her, pat her hair, and tell her that it will be okay. but really, i'm picturing my own four year old self running barefoot down the street to safety in my nightgown, trailing after my older sister.

i thought about calling the police. i looked up the number to the local station and dialed it, listened to the automatic recording with the options for which number to press to direct my call. and i hung up.

because as traumatic as these incidents must be for that young girl in that house, it doesn't feel urgent.

only words.

she drinks bottles and bottles of wine and gets intense. her husband takes the alcohol from her and she screams at the top of her lungs: "why do you always make this about you?" he threatens to leave, to take the daughter and go and she screams: "eric! don't go! i love you! i love you! i love you!"

that doesn't feel like it needs a police response. but something has to stop that screaming. someone should make that little girl a priority?



rock out - rock on

words like thunder raining down outside my window pane
hello dad, i'm in jail
And if it make's you feel better, I'll be on my way
driftwood, washed ashore on a Tahitian beach
i don't want to be the foil in this plotline

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