Maybe I’m not Meant to be Armenian.

My close relative hit me in the face this morning because I opened the door to two female solicitors. He hit me again on the grounds of a lie my sister spread to him and my mother.

I was in the car with my sister yesterday, not knowing where we were going, when a cop pulled her over, mid-way on a merge into the freeway. She didn’t stop at the red light when making a right. She didn’t bother slow down, and even sped to dodge the cars rightfully entering the freeway. (I swear to my grave that she is the most horrific driver I’ve met.) He pulled over another SUV in front of us. He asked for registration. I opened the little cubby and gave it to her. She said “What did I do officer?” She gave him an attitude, and just stared at him when he answered and asked questions. The violation really wasn’t up for debate. Really? Don’t lie- he was right behind you. Don’t show him you’re unaware of basic driving rules. I softly said “It’s okay, we know, she caught herself after she did it.” I’ve been arrested twice, and avoided it many other times. I know a thing or two about communication with pigs.

Therefore, her ticket was my fault. She was infuriated at me. We got home and she yelled at my mother. “It was this fucking idiot’s fault!” My mother believed her. They both began to scream at me, and when Armenians scream, you can hear us down the block. The fight became violent. I couldn’t believe she was blaming me- again- for her mistakes. I left. I didn’t know where I was going, but I was gone.

This happened last week too. And the week before. I have a test to take in several days that will determine whether I will go to college or not; they don’t give a shit. It’s all about my sister, who is visiting from a med school in the Caribbean, who graduated from UCLA, who goes shopping every day and has put my family in fifty thousand dollars worth of debt, who is disrespectful to the people in her life, who has a mind like that of a rock,  and is utterly ungrateful for the opportunities she has had.

Someone’s calling her right now; my mom screamed to tell her. My family is over, but they don’t know I’m home. I can hear her. She changed her voice’s pitch, her adjectives, and she is pretending to laugh. I took the bus home. I cleaned the house. I made food. I hardly spent money. I studied all day long and cried and tried to be strong. I cursed out god and asked to be strong. This is my daily routine. And she is talking right now about a “French club” with her friends; they are throwing her a going away party; I can hear her from outside my paper thin walls. Run. I am invisible, only when they learn they can accuse me, yell at me, or ask me of something, like this laptop to watch a movie.

Dear lord, take me away. One final time. I want to know peace. I want to know love.


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