a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz)

MATTIO
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a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz) Jun 22, 2015 7:55:27 GMT -5

Post by MATTIO on Jun 22, 2015 7:55:27 GMT -5

”He never listens,” I mutter as I slam my door and sit in my room. Sure it may be a bit childish, but at least I can get up and do something with my life. Father just sits on his lazy ass and drinks his beer. Drinks his life away. He has the soul of a dead man and a brain the size of a walnut. And Mother supports him doing this, saying ‘He’s worked hard enough in his whole lifetime. Give him a break. Now go and help your cousin’. Well y’know what? Screw him. He can do some work. He’s the one paying for our land, and if he doesn’t want to help it thrive, then it is his problem when our family goes down in the gutter.

Colton and I share a room, something I’m not too happy about. Don’t get me wrong, my cousin is one of the few people I care about, but when he came to live with us, it seemed like I got less of what I had then. I actually had to share things instead of being greedy and possessive all the time. At least we don’t have to share a bed, I find this a relief because if we did, he’d surely be the one sleeping on the floor every night. ”Fuck life,” I say under my breath as I faceplant myself on to my bed, something that I can truly have as my own, and a place where I don’t have to do any kind of work.

credit to will

marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz) Jun 22, 2015 20:59:20 GMT -5

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Jun 22, 2015 20:59:20 GMT -5

My cousin hasn't helped me at all today. That doesnt surprise me however, because he does enjoy helping me out but he takes every chance he can to not help me out at the same time. Which I dont personally mind, because he can be quite stubborn when it comes to work sometimes. I have almost finished my chores for today which is a good thing because I was getting pretty damn tired. Herding our animals into the barn I close it up and start my walk back.

I make my way up the steps of our house and into the door. I see my mother and she looks over at me expectantly, knowing that I have come in multiple times before when I havent finished my chores. Speaking out I talk to her. "Yes, I finished my chores aunt. Don't worry." I speak. After that I head upstairs to the room that my cousin and I shared together. Opening the door and jumping onto the bed on the opposite side of his, I see him laying in his too. I turn my head to the side so I can see him and I speak. "Hey Chris,"

MATTIO
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a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz) Jun 26, 2015 11:28:55 GMT -5

Post by MATTIO on Jun 26, 2015 11:28:55 GMT -5

I lie lifeless on my bed, debating whether I own it or if Mother and Father do. After all, they are the ones who own the house, but I am the one that uses it every single day. They have their own beds to own, so why would they have to try and own mine too? Father hasn’t even come in my room once to check on me to see if I was okay, not once. Not even when I was a little kid crying myself to sleep each night. It was always Mother, and even then she wasn’t comforting.

I can hear mumbling between Colt and Mother from outside the room, but I can’t really make out what they’re saying. Colton is probably complaining about something and Mother would be telling him to suck it up, that’s who she is. She’s the parent that could care less about your struggles, and she only wants to hear about your accomplishments. The number of accomplishments that get done around this house are slim, but she always acts prideful if she talks to her friends about me. About how I am an angel that came down to be her perfect child.

I doubt she believes I’m perfect, and if she does, it’s probably because I don’t get on her nerves as much as-

The door slams open and in comes a man full of muscle and strength. He goes straight for his bed, only place where he doesn’t have to do work. Colton. ”Hey Chris,” he says. I don’t want to say anything as it would disturb my hour of rest and relaxation, but it’s only polite to speak when someone is talking to you.

”I’m trying to take a nap,” I moan, my voice only echoes through the bedding, anywhere else it sounded like a distant mumble.

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marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz) Jun 27, 2015 9:14:50 GMT -5

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Jun 27, 2015 9:14:50 GMT -5

After hearing Christian moan something about trying to take a nap into his bed I took a pillow and threw it at him. I didn't care if he was trying to take a nap, I was probably 10x more tired than he was and I wasn't trying to sleep. So goddamn, Chris, just stop being the selfish guy you are for once and actually consider how much I do work. I do more work than he has, ever has, and I have learned to not complain about getting less sleep than I'd normally like. Speaking to him, I grin. "Too bad." I don't really care if he ignores me, but just please, please Chris at least give me something, someone to talk to. I don't want to be alone anymore. Though however, I always will be. I work alone, so why bother worrying about being alone forever? I'm used to it. I guess that's just a normal thing, to be worried about being alone when you already are half of your life.

172 word post whoops
IM SORRY ITS SHORT OMF

MATTIO
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a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz) Jun 27, 2015 9:30:29 GMT -5

Post by MATTIO on Jun 27, 2015 9:30:29 GMT -5

”Too bad,” I hear Colton’s snob remark come out of his mouth. Even if I did seem demanding, he should know by now that I enjoy naps, and that naps can only be accomplished with peace and quiet. Can he not just respect the fact that I work at most an hour a day, and now I need to take a nap after that heavy work.

Just ignore him and maybe he’ll go away, I think to myself. It has worked a lot in the past. If you pretend someone is not in the area, they will just dismiss the fact that they are too and shut up. Eventually, if someone is looking for conversation and they aren’t getting it, people naturally leave. I pick my head up a tad bit and fix my hair, something that I can truly call my own. Well, unless Mother and Father own me, then they would own everything I have on my body: my clothes, hair, eyeballs.

Just don’t say anything to him, please Christian. Please don’t feed the fir- ”Don’t you just hate it when people act like they own you, and when they think they own everything you have?” I begin to rant, hoping that Colt will stay for a good venting session. ”I mean, sometimes I don’t even think I have a place to call my own,” I say, turning around on the bed to face Colton.

”All I have are things in this room, and even then, I have to share them,” I finish ranting for a bit. Being possessive seems childish to me, but if you haven’t had possession in such a long time, you’re going to keep building up the need for it.

You keep building it up in your head until the thermometer is too high. And when it’s too high, it bursts.

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marcellus rhodes 11b arc
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a place to call our own (Arc + Mattio blitz) Jun 27, 2015 10:13:50 GMT -5

Post by marcellus rhodes 11b arc on Jun 27, 2015 10:13:50 GMT -5

He started some kind of rant, and I'm pretty sure a good three fourths of it was ranting of me. He asked me if I hate it when people act like they own things you have and all kinds of thing about only having the room to share and all that bull shit. Honestly I find it funny. Real funny he has the idea to rant about that when I can rant about so much more. He only works one hour a day. And he's only been doing it for two years. He's stupid enough to not recognise that I've been working all day ever since I could remember. And he has the fucking right to rant about only having to share things? He complains all the time. Never really caring about my problems, only his, and that sounds completely like Christian. Since aunt has beaten me before, couldn't I do the same to him for not giving me respect in what I've been doing what seems like years? Like its some kind of schedule.

"No, I don't really hate that per say. But I do hate something." I speak, walking closer to him and wishing I still had my boots on for a better kick. "What is that? You may ask, well, I think you know very damn well, Christian." I say, stepping closer. Each word I speak makes me boil more inside, almost as if I was a teapot. Except I'm not going to be the one howling. He will. He knows that when I call him by his real name, not Chris, that he's getting on my nerves. "What I really do hate, is when someone complains about wanting to rest from only working one hour when they've only been doing it for two years. I've been working my ass off since I was six, working every day and every night and I had to get used to being in pain. So why don't you stop being a little bitch and man up." I say. I have reached my destination I guess. Reaching my leg up I kick him in the face. "Little wimp."