Things I’m Okay With

*Wild Card Post*

I have fourty eight hours to get an entire math assignment done and 100% correct, and again every two days.

It’s okay, it’s not like I have seven other classes, or you know, a social life.

Excitment pulsing through my body is rejected by your latest rant, deflating my good mood back to it’s usual state.

It’s okay, I didn’t want to tell you anyway.

Mail, books and unused birthday gifts are carelessly thrown into a pile, the dining table too cluttered to eat on.

It’s okay, we never eat together anyway.

You interrogate my friends in attempt to distract from the heated conversation you just had before we walked in the front door.

It’s okay, I never invite friends over anymore.

You say you’re too tired of parenting, wish you didn’t have the responsibility.

It’s okay, I don’t need you to be attentive, I can handle myself.

I remember when you came home aggitated, regretted what you said and did, but never apologized.

It’s okay, I don’t always remember, just every time you come in my room.

You tell me my anger is too hard to handle, that I don’t think straight, that you must be a bad parent.

It’s okay, you don’t need to be perfect like I have to.

-The Splintered Pencil