"this place has broken my american heart"
that's even beside the point. what is the point? today, it's my family.
i've had a long year in respect to these cheery beings that are fastened to my past.
i have two older brothers (that's me, the youngest spoiled brat). the quiet middle child, jamie, got married to his eighteen year old pregnant girlfriend in january. my first nephew was born on april twenty-sixth (he is so fucking adorable that he nearly made me puke ... luckily, he puked on me first). i get home from my long awaited visit to rhode island, and i talk to my other brother (the more adamant ladies' man body-builder type) who says, top secret, i'm gonna be a dad. he's thirty dating a woman (the one that's pregnant) who has two children from two different fathers. now, i'm not judging them (as it may sound), i love my brothers ... our parents raised us well (even if they should have covered that chapter on birth control a little more thoroughly).
my mom's a character to be reckoned with. she didn't have much of a family, so she built her own twice as strong. she used to be a cop and now pretty much wants to take over hallmark. overbearingly mom-like with criticism built in, she's got skin cancer, and i'm the only one who can tell it's hurting her.
my dad's the strong silent type who only has jokes for family. he spent most of his life in the military and subtlely wears his patriotism on his sleeve. practical to a fault, he doesn't show his pain unless it's because one of us is in pain.
garrett has got the big brother thing nailed. he's like a failed medical experiment to combine brains with brawn, but it worked. he pulls us into line. classic frat boy without a frat, he expects jamie and i to follow suit and snaps to attention if we don't appreciate anything we've been given.
jamie's got the over-sensitive, please 'em all demeanor that must have been an heirloom from my mom. it must be hard to grow up in a shadow. a quiet homebody, he hasn't ever realized his potential or his strength.
then there's me.
demanding, possessive, artistic, liberal, and constantly dreaming ... i'm the one who usually comes home with a surprise tattoo. trying desperately to communicate constantly, i try to talk it all out whether it be with ghosts or blank walls. i can't hold anything down for long, including anger. i just want them all to be proud of me.
oh yeah, i'm punk as all fuck right? my dad really liked my new studded bracelet, and my mom thought the still itching ink on my arm was quite cute.
it's the most comfortable rebellion i've had in years.
