Oh fuck their quiet whispers and shaking of heads. I hate their low mumbles that increase in volume as their temper rises. Can't you see we are here? We are all here in the same room. We are the insults. How you both try and hurt one another. God fucking damnit, why? How are you both so lost in the anger of the argument that you forget self decency. What, is it pride? Is it some kind of diginity you have to uphold?

I'm fucking five, ten, fifteen yeas only again. It is still happening and I want to shout at them every time. Their anger angers me and their hurtful words humidify the air and leaves me gagging. I want to shove the damn jaozi down their throat. Fuck you! It won't cook, this is what your arguing about! This piece of dough molded by chinese hands is the foundation of your glaring eyes and spitting words. Fuck it! Look, see! A blind man has more sight then you at these times.

"I don't know what happened! Sarah, can you talk to him? Try and see what's wrong?"

Nothing but blood shot eyes from pounding the walls and the slow leaky tears. I give him a hug.
"I understand."

But not enough to give sarcastic remarks to my step-mother. My anger comes through in slience. I feel better that way. Let her think she can talk nonsense and say pointless things. God, how can I have so much respect for your professional life and depsise your personal one. Fuck you, don't be my friend.