And You Never Will.

The door slams shut for the third time this week; you can still hear her sobbing and screaming, you can imagine the tears and snot plastered on her face. Her voice was raspy, her words grating.

You don't understand and you never will.

The wife gives you a disappointing glare, eyes masking the lecture you'd be getting later. You know you deserve it, but right now the anger is brittle and furious- a storm of fear, misunderstanding, and confusion mixing into unfortunate fury. You glare back as she runs up the stairs to the daughter's aid. You sigh and collapse on the leather couch and remember.

When you were a boy things were simple. Or as simple as it could be, anyway. The heat was smoldering, the streets were loud. The atmosphere smelled of petroleum and food; sounded like loving mothers and taxi cabs. You could hear the clatter of dishes and your mother calling for you to come eat dinner. It felt like home. Or as much as it could feel like it.

You try to ignore your mother's tears or the way that your brother doesn't chitter like he always does. You try to ignore the closed study door, the chair with nobody in it. You try not to miss a hand in your hair; a voice asking about your school day; the smell of cologne and sweat as he came home from another hard day at work. You try to think about how life could go downhill so fast while all you did was write essays and solve problems. You miss your dad but grieving won't solve anything will it?

You smile. Shovel food into your mouth, and smile. It feels fake even as you do it, and yet you continue to do it over and over again, one pitiful grin after the other.

It's great, mom.

Thanks, mom.

It's perfect, mom.

It was simpler back then. When the hardest conquest was school and the worst case of bullying was getting shoved into a wall and beat up in a dark alley. The worst nightmare was losing your dad at the age of eighteen. You can't even start to comprehend the problems in today's world.

She called me a bitch in a group chat. Everybody saw it and that hurts.

Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean, I can't do this.

I like girls! So what? Why can't you just love me for me?

Why can't she make her life easier? Why can't she just fit in and keep it simple? Why does she want to be so different?

You love her, you really do, but you don't understand. You never will.