Re: First Draft of Personal Essay

hear me
I want everything to sound perfect and be perfect. I’m mad and pissed off and that’s where it seems to go as far as that; my feelings. I’m standing there with my arms folded across my chest. It’s just anything I try to say or want to say or feel passionately what I want to say. I just can’t throw up the shit out of me.
My motherfuckin’ family will not listen to me. They are all stubborn headed fools. They don’t want to hear anything, they don’t want to be yelled at or have anybody tell them anything. They are not understanding and it just makes me feel fuckin’ frustrated.
For Christ sake I want this, whatever’s inside me to just explode, I want to hit and sock them sometimes because I feel that it is the only way they will listen. I want to hit my little sister get her head and bang it across the side white cabinet door at our house in the restroom. She’s just a bitch right now. I can’t even be mad or upset or pissed off at home because my mom thinks that, well, she says, “Aye Fermina don’t be mad at your sister, she’s your sister. You’re the oldest. Aww, fuck that shit mom, your daughter’s a gawd damn bitch, just like you fuckin’ are.”
My sister acts like she is older than me. I’m older then her. I always look like the bad one. You crazy ass psycho-bitch.
Oh, and this fuckin’ morning I was so fucking pissed off at my dad and my older brother. My brother is so fuckin’ stubborn headed and yet it’s ok for him to get mad and I mean mad. He is able to express his shit. Fuck dad. I gave you thirty fucking dollars and you didn’t put any gas. Dad, what tha fuck were you doing yesterday? Gawd Damnit, then my dad snaps at me or is well he lets his oomph out. So then I just shut up.
But I was just getting frustrated because my dad was pissed off, he was frustrated and when he honked the horn for me to go out side I was still doing a couple of things to get ready. However, my fuckin’ brother did not get up his ass, and I was like fuck. Because I had heard the car horn honked from the bathroom. I was brushing my teeth and when I came out and saw my brother just calmly sitting down on the computer chair chilling, not moving and not getting up, because he hates it when dad honks the horn like that.
He says that when my dad does that it is like he is saying, “Hurry up kiddos, and blah blah, blah, I can’t put the words verbatim right now. So anywho. I knew it was all fucking over. And when I saw him sitting there nonchalantly I said, “Fuck.”
I hurried up to go outside and told dad, “Dad, two minutes, I’ll be right out.” So as I’m getting ready, I’m trying to hurry up and I was taking to long for my dads’ patience. Then my nephew had to go to school. But my other older fucking brother, Public Enemy’s asshole number #1 did not take his fat ass in his truck to take my fuckin nephew to school. He was supposed to take Francisco to school. Then he comes out all raving mad and tells my dad in my point of view meanly and demanding and so my dad does but he just drives around the block because he does not want to come back and pick me up even only though the school’s about a minute away by car and it’s too much for my dad, going back and forth, back and forth.
So I was done getting ready my nephew comes back in and I say, “Francisco what are you doing back? Francisco: Fermina, Tia Fermina, grandpa wants you to hurry up. Accck, oh my gawd, so then I was like, what tha fuh, then my drunk ass brother #2 told my brother (Public Enemy’s asshole number #1) to take Francisco and that’s where he got all mad and huffy puffy because he was going to eat his breakfast and he came out storm raving mad yelling at my dad to take Francisco to school.
So then dad finally comes back, me and drunk ass brother #2 are ready and we get into the car. But I knew something was up my dad’s butt. And then I look at the gas tank and it is close to empty as usual. Since I’m frustrated, “Dad why didn’t you put any gas in the car I gave you money yesterday. Ommpff, that just blew his top off, and he yelled at me, I’ve told my dad before, sometimes when he gets mad like that I feel like he wants to hit me. He has so much pent up emotions himself I don’t blame him for being like that but fuck. If you really understood me dad then you would know I have pent up emotions myself as well and yet when I want to try to blow off steam you guys can’t handle fuckin’ handle it.
Think about it, assholes, do you ever think about other people who can’t or have a hard time talking back or yelling or saying shit that bother them. Hey asshole do you ever think when you get mad that it’s ok for you to show it and then when you have someone else trying to explain themselves you don’t want to hear it. Aww, fuck you man. You can kiss my ass.
So after that, then drunk ass brother #2 got pissed off, because my dad was starting to get steam off his chest, saying he was tired, tired of taking my brother places and I know my dad gets tired coming back and forth to Fresno. But I got pissed off at my brother because my dad has been doing a lot for him I mean he takes my brother to the doctor’s office and other important places he needs to go. My brother’s white car’s fucked up, so then my dad was pissed off that he had to go take Francisco to school and I wasn’t ready when he came by the house and honked and then my brother was saying smooshy stuff like, we should just be a family and help each other out and do none of this arguing crap. He hates the fighting and the arguing and for some how some reason I’m not tired of it. I just get pissed off that I can explain any of my crap.
So then it’s about 8:06 am, my class starts at 9am here at school, I have Strength Training. So then all the commotion is going on inside my dad’s little four door, shiny grayish-purple Nissan car. And then he has to go drop some keys off somewhere and then I told my brother I needed to go to the bank and somewhere around there we were all pissed off and then I was defending my dad, Hey, Loen, Dad does does a lot he takes me to school he helps you out and from there he was pissed he didn’t want to fucking hear it.
So then you know what, I was like I’m not going to school. Fuck this shit man, I didn’t want to go and then when we got back to our house and I was like it’s only P.E., so it’s no big deal. There are only three other classes that I really care about so, you know big deal. I’m not gonna kill myself over P.E. big fuckin’ deal man. Life’s too short to kill myself for a class let alone a fucking teacher. Good thing my two Drama courses weren’t today all the motherfuckers (Faculty) had a retreat today.
My voice is dry; I get nervous to express my shit out of me. This shit that’s held in my chest is stuff I want to say to every fuckin’ individual in my family, professor, professional-whatever, people, drama people, anybody who pisses me off and I want to give them a piece of my mind. Ugghh... I’m so deeply muddled and conflicted and confused with my own emotions. My thoughts are at times like a train-wreck and about four of them are coming at each other at the same freakin’ time. Fuh (Fuck).
I wish you can enter my body, my mind, my soul, my psyche, my cognitive thoughts, my world, Mi Vida. Yet I’m afraid to let you in. I don’t want you to judge me, look at me and give me non-blank emotionless stares.
Don’t fucking look at me. Damn it. I wish I can just wear a brown, “Town ‘n’ Country, grocery bag over my head and then I would feel a lot more confident about myself. Why, you may ask, I won’t have to worry about ‘your eyes,’ just looking at me and I already feel like a bad little kid, doing something wrong.
I feel like if I look at other people, they’ll think I’m just staring at them. I like to look around at other people. Having the brown paper bag with a handle over my head, would help me to express myself. I wouldn’t hold back, I don’t have to see you; you don’t have to see me. I wouldn’t feel so self-conscious (well unless maybe I was in a therapist’s office).
I feel like I don’t exist in my family. Deepness is what I feel. What is this deepness? There is this card and it has a young man and Jesus is behind him and at the bottom of the picture is a stream of blood and the young man is clenching his fist and man. I wish it was me in that picture.
At time I feel that I am having a heart attack. I can be eating dinner or typing on the computer and then out of the blue, bam, these deep aches in my heart just stop me in action. Somebody would somebody just stick a knife in my heart and get it over with. I want to feel but am I ready to handle such truths?
I hate you! I fuckin’ hate you! You stupid bitch! You stupid whore! You fuckin’ whore! Fuck you, you asshole, you fuckin’ prick. You know what you’re a dick a pure bonafied dick. Yeah, I said it, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick, Dick. You fuckin’ Pussy!
You psycho-rapist hillbilly, retarded, ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyper Activity Disordered) fuck. I hope you felt that blow. You pussy head. Fuck you and your big tit mama, you interbreeded family. Tightwad, selfish, personality disordered freak.
Damn it, motherfuckers would you just stay tha fuck outta my space. Can you all just shut tha fuck up! You know what y’allz, y’allz just shut tha fuck up!
I hate you mom. I wish you would die sometimes. I love you, mommie. Would you rub my tummy mommy? It hurts me, mama. Please, rub my belly. Why do you hate me so much mama, why? Please help me, mama, please.
(Mom’s Voice): You son of a bitch kids, you guys treat me like shit. Some day you guys are gonna regret it. Your gonna regret it someday, Fermina.
I hate you, mom! You fuckin’ bitch!
(Mom’s Voice): I’ve done everything for you my whole life and this is how you guys repay me.
I feel guilty. I feel bad. I’m sorry mama.
(Mom’s Voice): Ahh, go over there; you say the same thing over and over. Ahh, chie, chie (cry, cry), chiona (crybaby).
I feel really bad mom, I’m sorry for spitting on your red Chevrolet Cavalier and then on your window. I was so vengeful how you acted this morning. And then once you gave me that look, I knew I felt bad. I felt bad. Mama I love you, mama. I wish you would hug me sometimes. I wish I was small again mama. Remember mama when me and Lina would be asleep in the bed, waiting for you to come home from work and I would be so happy to see you, mama.
And I know you were happy to see me too. Lina was sleeping and I go run to the laundry room and you wearing your white uniform, white shoes and your clear plastic apron on. Then you got your black curly hair just the way mama had it.
Then you would come out with your black purse. And out came those pretty little ruffled underware or the pretty little ruffled socks and sometimes you would have candy for us. Mama, what happened to those days mama, what happened?
Mama, please, let, why can’t, only, damn.
I don’t like people; I think their stupid, dumb and don’t understand. They don’t understand anything. They can’t pick up on my emotions of feelings. I hate people.
No one understands me and I’m freakin’ tired of “understanding” or being understanding or trying to understand other people. I hate people. I’m mad. You know why, because yesterday on the first day of school, my Drama 10-Art of Theatre teacher told me, “Hey, wake up, pay attention.” I was like ughh, in my mind, I was just like asking my new classmate a question that was pertaining to our assignment.
Which was we had to interview a person we didn’t know. So as I simultaneously turned my head to ask her, “How she views the world, his yellers (yellow) wooden teeth, told me, “Wake Up, Pay attention.” What pisses me off about it was, how can you tell me that, I do nothing wrong, I always listen in class, I pay attention. How can you tell me that?? But I’m Fermina. You stupid Asshole, well all your dumb ass Theatre Arts students who are talking their heads off, being stupid, nerdy and rowdy. You don’t fucking notice them because your late to your own class.
I know you are sarcastic because you were being detrimental to the two theatre art guys in class. Ha, Ha. But you know them and you like them and their heavily involved in the Theatre Arts Program. Awww, Phooey on ya. I know I’m not well known and you don’t know me, I already think you probably think nothing of me. And I feel that tomorrow you will ask why I didn’t show up to auditions. Well, maybe you do notice me after all since you freakin’ asked us what our majors were, damn!
I hate being stared at; I hate people looking at me. I hate people just looking with their eyes. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one with feelings and emotions. I just I don’t know, I feel people’s feelings and I’m tired of asking people if there ok, or what’s bothering them, or ughh…..something. I can’t even feel my own ga dam feelings. I just want to be away from people. I feel like I’m wearing all black, a black t-shirt, black pants and I’m just huddled in a corner, with my hands and arms around my legs and I’m slighting touching both my index fingers.
Gawd what tha fuck am I mad about? I hate people. I hate it that they don’t notice me or see me or hear me that I’m quiet. Or pick up on what kind of person I am. I can tell you what kind of person you are. Why can’t you tell me what kind of person I am? Why can’t you tell me how I feel? Why can’t you feel me? Why can’t you feel my feelings? Why can’t you at least try to figure out what I am thinking or try to consider what I’m thinking what I’m feeling?
Damn, I do this with everyone, family, people, classmates, teachers, I just feel people. I feel their feelings. I don’t think I even fuckin’ exist. I’m just stoic. What that fuck am I? Who tha fuck am I? I hate you. I hate all you stupid fucking people. I can’t wait to see all you dumbfucks just drop your jaws and be shocked and amazed. Because someday I will be somebody, some day, I will tell you to your face what I think of you. If I don’t fucking like you I’ll tell you. And I won’t give a fuck.
Fuck man, but there is such a loving and caring side to me too. I do and care a lot for people. I care for their feelings, I care for their emotions. But there are only certain people whom I seem to have a connection with.