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Merry Fucking Christmas (story and rant-ish-thing)
15 years ago
A DAY IN THE LIFE OF NIBBLER: Inspired by my life. Fuck. It. All.
Nibbler sat on the brown fabric couch of her living room, legs tucked up onto the cushion. The girl, though she didn't want to be, was wearing a green head band hat had fake red felt antlers; she sat, watching the fight before her.
It had all started the same way a normal Christmas did every year in her five-person family: decorating a shitty fake tree with even shittier home-made decorations. The girl had attempted to play Christmas music on her iPod, but every single time that she started to have fun, her two younger siblings would start fighting. In the end, her siblings had fought, her mother had decorated the tree, and her step-father had retreated to the garage to listen to heavey medal music. Of course, that only escalated into every one screaming and fighting while the cat-girl sat silently on he couch. How strange; they didn't noice her at all or even mention her. She was totally invisible. (and then starting here is where it's all creativity; but every thing before this point actually happened.) Threats and curses were exchanged over he next hour, Nibbler's attempts at comforting her family were ignored as though she wasn't even there, and every one went to sulk in their rooms. Every one, but the forgotten 14 year old girl.
It had taken her a moment to process every thing, but soon enough tears were streaming down her cheeks as she screamed and tore the sparkling red bow out of her hair. Unnoticed again. An emotional break-down later, Nibbler threw her bow to the ground for her cats to play with and made her way to the kitchen...
LATER
The dark-brown female furry flopped back into her pillows and blankets, hugging her giant Teddy-bear stuffy, Kumajirou, to her chest as she threw the knife across her room. It was 10pm now, 3 hours after the fight and she was still invisible to her family. Sniffling back more tears, Nibbler rolled onto her her side and licked the bloody cuts in her palm. No one noticed the knife missing from the kitchen, or how ice-cold the downstairs was, or her calls of "Good night", or he bloody trail leading to her room, OR how her eyes were red from crying. No one noticed anything hat had to do with the emotionally-unstable girl that they had all known and loved. Yes. Known and loved, passtense, because if they still knew and loved her, they would have noticed her. And her bow. And her tears. And her blood.
(true part) Pulling out her iPod, Nibbler went onto FA and started typing a PM to her American mate, whom she had kept a seceret from her family and friends for fear of them rejecting her; not that he family would notice if she told them now. Content with her message she pressed 'send' and turned of the electronic device. He was the only one she could ask the questions that she just had; not even Kat had the level of love that it took to answer them.
(creativity part) Her palm no longer shown signs of bleeding, Nibbler let sleep take control and closed her eyes. But her dreams would become nightmares of death, isolation, and being forgotten; as they always had and would be.
Merry fucking Christmas...
(venting? Subconciously asking for help? Being an easily-hated emo bitch? I dunno; all I know is bat I feel a little better after writing and sharing this.)
Nibbler sat on the brown fabric couch of her living room, legs tucked up onto the cushion. The girl, though she didn't want to be, was wearing a green head band hat had fake red felt antlers; she sat, watching the fight before her.
It had all started the same way a normal Christmas did every year in her five-person family: decorating a shitty fake tree with even shittier home-made decorations. The girl had attempted to play Christmas music on her iPod, but every single time that she started to have fun, her two younger siblings would start fighting. In the end, her siblings had fought, her mother had decorated the tree, and her step-father had retreated to the garage to listen to heavey medal music. Of course, that only escalated into every one screaming and fighting while the cat-girl sat silently on he couch. How strange; they didn't noice her at all or even mention her. She was totally invisible. (and then starting here is where it's all creativity; but every thing before this point actually happened.) Threats and curses were exchanged over he next hour, Nibbler's attempts at comforting her family were ignored as though she wasn't even there, and every one went to sulk in their rooms. Every one, but the forgotten 14 year old girl.
It had taken her a moment to process every thing, but soon enough tears were streaming down her cheeks as she screamed and tore the sparkling red bow out of her hair. Unnoticed again. An emotional break-down later, Nibbler threw her bow to the ground for her cats to play with and made her way to the kitchen...
LATER
The dark-brown female furry flopped back into her pillows and blankets, hugging her giant Teddy-bear stuffy, Kumajirou, to her chest as she threw the knife across her room. It was 10pm now, 3 hours after the fight and she was still invisible to her family. Sniffling back more tears, Nibbler rolled onto her her side and licked the bloody cuts in her palm. No one noticed the knife missing from the kitchen, or how ice-cold the downstairs was, or her calls of "Good night", or he bloody trail leading to her room, OR how her eyes were red from crying. No one noticed anything hat had to do with the emotionally-unstable girl that they had all known and loved. Yes. Known and loved, passtense, because if they still knew and loved her, they would have noticed her. And her bow. And her tears. And her blood.
(true part) Pulling out her iPod, Nibbler went onto FA and started typing a PM to her American mate, whom she had kept a seceret from her family and friends for fear of them rejecting her; not that he family would notice if she told them now. Content with her message she pressed 'send' and turned of the electronic device. He was the only one she could ask the questions that she just had; not even Kat had the level of love that it took to answer them.
(creativity part) Her palm no longer shown signs of bleeding, Nibbler let sleep take control and closed her eyes. But her dreams would become nightmares of death, isolation, and being forgotten; as they always had and would be.
Merry fucking Christmas...
(venting? Subconciously asking for help? Being an easily-hated emo bitch? I dunno; all I know is bat I feel a little better after writing and sharing this.)
talk to me next time
I HAZ TEH HEART STUFFZ.
Seriosly, Christmas sucks, I hate it. I leave whenever it's mentioned.
But family is also pretty gay at times
(not intending to upset any homosexuals here)