What are the neighbors going to think?

Marry; she’s just a spoiled little girl. The only one that her parents have actually, of course she’s spoiled.

Daddy, he bought her a car, Japanese. Gives her money every week.

If you look at the big picture Marry has the perfect little life. Both parents alive and healthy and still together, she doesn’t work but still has the means to put gas and go out with friends.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Behind the curtain it’s a total different story, of course. Her parents aren’t speaking to each other, her mom keeps bringing up how trapped she feels in this city and how much she’d like to move to the country.

“Then move to the fucking country mom, and stop nagging me!” That’s what Marry said once, she screamed it really. Her mom never said what Marry would’ve expected her to say. Her mom never said “Your father would never move to the country.” She just nodded and muttered “Maybe I will.”

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Behind the curtain her mother screams at her every day to get a job and on the other side her father whispers shit about mom. “Crazy old broad.”, “ Every woman in that family is insane.” ,“ Her mum is just as bonkers as she is and the worst part is that she’ll live to be 100 years old just like her grandmother.”, “Let her speak, nod and do whatever the hell you want, she’s just a crazy old bitch.” And the worst of them by far “Every woman will end up just as crazy as your mother.” Righty-o daddy-o, I can only assume that you forgot your child is a woman, or else you wouldn’t talk like that, or would you?

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Behind the curtain she’s just a scared little girl, a spoiled brat and lazy as fuck, little girl. She diagnosed herself with ADD (attention deficit disorder) so she wouldn’t have to admit that she’s just too lazy to accomplish anything, she’s just to comfortable in her big leather chair to get her fat ass up and do something, anything.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Fucking Marry can have an actual perfect fucking life, she’s multi talented: she can draw, she can write, she’s good at sports, dancing, for all Marry knows she can stand on her head, joggle with her feet and sing Amazing Grace to a group of orphans while writing the new modern novel, but she’ll never try because she’s too comfortable where she is now.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. When things get rough she’s thinking of checking out. When that guy, that cretin, didn’t like her back she put in her mouth a fist full of drugs that she round up from her mother’s cabinet, mainly pain killers. Of course she spat them back out, she’s so far gone into this commodity business that not even dyeing doesn’t deserve much effort. I mean if you don’t just drop dead after thinking that, it doesn’t worth killing yourself over it. That was a joke, Marry’s good with jokes, she can mock anyone for as long as needed, she has that tiny bit of narcissism that allows her to do so and she got that from her dad. He thinks he’s better than anyone as well and it drives Marry crazy.

“YES DAD, YOU DID TELL ME ABOUT THE FRENCH REVOLUTION A HUNDRED TIMES BEFORE, AND ALSO THE FACT THAT YOUr FRIEND HAD NO IDEA WHO NAPOLEON WAS! JESUS CHRIST, AND YOU SAY MOM’S INSANE!” Marry wants to scream that every time her dad brings something like that up, but she doesn’t. Either because she respects him too much or because she’s afraid he’ll cut her founding off.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Things got rough one day, again, and she decided to slit her wrist. Yeah, you read correctly, wrist. She placed the blade on her skin, pushed in and dragged it to the side, fast, no pain. Marry could see the cut, it’s length and depth, the two parts of the skin, the same color as on the surface and a moment later she could see every blood vessel the size of a hair starting to weep red and fill the cut, the blood gushed to the surface and slid on the side of Marry’s arm onto the desk.

“Shit, I’m bleeding all over and this mother fucker hurts as fuck, SHIT, SHIT. I need something to cover it up with, stop the bleeding FUCK, HOLLY FUCK I DON’T WANNA DIE!” That is what was going thru Marry’s head not seconds after she did the deed. She patched herself up with some strap from a robe that was lying around her room and went to bed. The rush of that two inches long cut stayed with her for a couple of days and she felt actually happy.

Tell you what Marry? Next time, eat some Goddamn chocolate if you want to feel happy, eat a pill of Ecstasy if you want to feel happy or just drink yourself under the table but don’t slice your veins open, it’s just unattractive.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Not days after this little outburst Marry’s application for a job she really wanted has been denied and she cracked, like she does, frequently over this subject. She curled up in a ball and cried her eyes out, punched a door until her knuckles bled and her mom came home.

Fucking Marry and her perfect fucking life. Her mom started jelling at her for not taking a worthless piece of shit job she had offered to Marry four years ago, than saw the cut on Marry’s wrist and said:

“You look like a prison whore! What are the neighbors going to think?”