I've always hated my oak floors...
The accoustics in my house
Are such that a pin dropping
Could deafen you.

They don't soak up the screaming
And shouting of angry siblings and parents;
Rather, they amplify them
So I can hear all the "wonderful" (and I say this EXTREMELY liberally)
Things they say about me:

"She's just a frigging BITCH!"
"I hate her so much. She really is a horrible person..."
"I just need a break from her."
"Why did I ever give birth to such a useless piece of shit?"

And at that point, I sit on the end of my bed
While the screaming match continues downstairs
And think, "I am a frigging bitch...
I understand why they hate me so much - because I'm a horrible person, I deserve it.
If I was a decent human being, I'd give them a break from me.
I have no idea why such a useless piece of shit like me was ever born."

So I gather a few possessions,
Pack them in a bag,
Quietly slip outside, feeling the cool Autumn breeze against my skin,
And begin to walk.

Walking away from the place
Where my prescence is the cause of so much unhappiness,
Walking away from the place
Where it was merely a convenience calling it "home",
Walking away from the place
Where I've dreamt about walking away from so many times before...

The fact that I've no place to go -
No sanctuary to retreat to; completely vulnerable -
Fails to bother me. Instead, relief sets in;
After all, who can I disappoint now?
Nobody.
Who can I anger now?
Nobody.
Who can make me feel guilty for my existence now?
Nobody.

It's just me,
My suitcase,
And the cool, evening air...

Peace.