You slap me. You scream. I say you're insane. I escape upstairs. I never pretended to be grown up. Suddenly you're in my face with all these assumptions. I think I'm so cool. I think I'm so smart. But really, I am nothing but a disgusting teenager. You're yelling in my ear and my hands are shaking. I don't want you to see me cry. You cry, you're trying to make me feel bad. I don't cry because I don't want you to know that it's working. All I hear is your voice eight octaves higher than it should. It fills my ears and grates my throat. So I drown you out with no alarms and no surprises and suddenly he's killing himself for recognition and killing himself to never ever stop. I ignore you. You get tired. You go downstairs. I'm alone and he's telling me to suck my teenage thumb.