home (recalling the window) (tw)

vent idk nothing is real i just need 2 say some shit and i need it 2 not be poetic and i need it 2 not b beautiful i just need it 2 be outside of me

a lot of the times when i'm home i just remember how my room is the only room in the entire house without a screen in the window. no barriers, no resistance (other than the catch of the/my hand on the frame). i wonder why i always want 2 go home when this is all there is: empty carpet, open window. i like 2 open the window. even when i'm not smoking cigarettes out of it i just like 2 feel the breeze. i wonder what for. i wonder why i just fucking sit there and look out it (but i know). my parents are fighting in the other room. it sounds like someone just slammed something down on the table, harsh. it is so caustic it burns me, even all the way in here, even with the door shut, even underneath all the solace of my blankets. i tell myself thats why my eyes r watering. i tell myself that we (i) need more ventilation. i open the window. my cat is dead in the fucking basement still, i know it, i know it, even if u tell me she is buried outside she is still in the basement. my mother is shouting about it and i know it (she doesn't know that i know it yet)/ beautiful sunset out tonight... can't see it over the screaming. i dont know what i'm saying. the wind feels cold like the steel lampposts outside my dorm but with a lot less community. i want 2 go back 2 school. don't worry about me. the front door has slammed now and the fight stagnated. i have stagnated, my burns tended. don't worry about me. i wonder if anyone does