She can’t control me but she thinks she can. She thinks that she can make me a mini her, a perfect product of Shaker Heights. To her, she sees herself and slim but not too thin, hair styled perfectly, organised, happy and in control. I see her and Shaker as ignorant, oblivious and crazy. She is not in control truly. Not of herself or of her life which is why she tries to control me so much.
I am not and will not ever be her. I love the violin, yes, but not for her. I will not sit there looking like a mini copy of her in that stupid yellow sun dress and play to the background of 20 other people.
She thinks I’m crazy, burn my hair. She doesn’t realise it is her that it crazy. Her that sees no wrong in the way she stereotypes others or feigns sympathy to self gratify. No, she just sees me as crazy. I’m sure she will add this to the list of times that I absolutely disappointed her that I am almost sure she keeps. Just for me, not for the other three. When it’s them, their either submissive little weaklings or she just turns a blind eye as though they are perfect.
Why does she do that. Why does she see them as these perfect little stars and not me? Moody is the responsible one, Lexie her carbon copy, and Trip the charming one. Does she not know how Trip is with a new girl every weekend, or how Lexie cheated on her essay. I wasn’t always so rebellious I tried, but not anymore. I won’t play her little game anymore.
So I sat there with the violin and bow laying heavy on my lap, turned my head to the audience and made eye contact with just her. I watched her eyes widen in shock and fury as she read my forehead and felt a rush of adrenaline. I am not her puppet.