1 a fucked up thing called fate

"TO be honest," I began, shuffling slightly on the small, green sofa. "I hate myself. I hate everything about me. I hate the way I've been called a carpet muncher all my life," I whispered. "I hate when fellas hit me and treat me like shit because of my sexual preferences. I hate my parents for putting me out on the streets when I was just sixteen," I sighed. "And I hate those damn fools that took advantage of me," I grumbled. "I wanted to make peace and live without anyone knowing what happened, but here I am, An alcoholic bitch with a failed marriage and a kid that hates me," I chuckled.

"Isn't my life fan-fucking-tastic?" I joked, holding up my glass of wine. "Mrs. Ichinose, I believe you are suffering from the trauma you've been through over twenty years ago. You've been suppressing it for so long, and now that it's bubbling up. You're trying to drown it out with alcohol," My therapist said to me in a soft tone. "I'm drowning out my shit life, Carla," I spat. "Your husband was right; you are a bitter drunk," She grumbled.

"So nice hearing that from my therapist. Thanks, I think I'll drink that down with a bottle of Pinot Noir," I grumbled. I stood up, turning around. "Suck my ass, Carla. Go die in a ditch somewhere," I said, sticking my middle finger up at the woman.

"You're thirty-nine years old, Mrs. Ichinose, please act like it."

"Fuck you!" I yelled, storming out of the small building. I got in my car, slamming the door shut. "She let you out early?" Takumi asked. I turned to him, scowling. "You told her I was a bitter drunk?" I asked, glaring holes into my husband. "Sweetie, I just said it because-" "GOD, YOU'RE ALWAYS TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME TO OTHER PEOPLE, I FUCKING HATE YOU!" I yelled. "Baby, I'm sorry, I...I...I don't know what came over me," I uttered. Takumi sighed. "We're going to pick up Kairo in a few," He whispered, ignoring my outburst. "I'm sorry, baby, please forgive me," I cried. "Avery, I know you're sorry, but you do this shit damn near every day. I'd be okay with the outbursts if it were every other day, but it's every single day. And it gets worse around this time of the year!" He yelled.

I lowered my head. I knew why I acted like this during this time of year, but I couldn't tell him. If I did, he would find out about my past. He would know about me being nothing but a filthy, pregnant bum before I met him.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered again. He ignored me. "I'm going to come home late tonight, so don't wait for me," He grumbled. I knew what that meant. I knew he would stay out all night, in a hotel with some broad. "Late work again?" I softly asked, despite knowing what he was intending on doing. He nodded. "Don't stress yourself out too much, and be safe," I uttered. He hummed in response.

I sighed, setting my son's dinner plate on the table. He grabbed his plate, attempting to go into his room. "Kairo, sit down and eat with me," I said softly. He sucked his teeth, rolling his hazel colored eyes at me. "Eat with you? Your dinner is a glass of Zinfandel and my prescribed Adderall. I'd rather swan dive into a gallon of elephant shit than sit here with you," He grumbled. Despite the pain, his words brought to my heart, I smiled, letting him walk away to his own isolation. Once he left, I opened my bottle and began gulping down the dry beverage. "Here's to yet another day I'm spending alone," I whispered, holding my glass up as if I was giving a toast.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't born with such a terrible fate.