apocalypsos | Ironically, "No Air" is currently playing on my MP3 player.

The phone conversation went something like this:

Dad: Are you coming up to see your grandparents?
Me: I'd love to, but I have no car and I'm still mad at Mom.
Dad: Hey, you were the one who cursed at your mother.
Me: Because she told me to quit my whining and crying when I was upset! Jesus, Dad, I'm really fucking sick of her treating me like shit every time I get upset, goddamn it.
Dad: ... fine, whatever. Are you coming up or not?
Me: I HAVE NO CAR. After she left me there, I had to call Uncle Richie and we got the car to his house.
Dad: That doesn't mean you can't come up here.
Me: I need a ride.
Dad: It's four blocks away. If you can't summon up the energy to walk up here, then ...
Me: *gets frustrated and hangs up*

So I started fucking walking to my parents' house.

Let me explain something. My hometown is on a hill. It's a steep incline from here on Main Street to my parents' house at the top of the hill, maybe fifty or sixty degrees depending on which path you take. It is not for anybody over a certain age or people who don't do it that often. And it's seven blocks from here to my parents' house. They're ALL uphill, and I'm not really fit right now, and it's eighty degrees out.

By the time I got to their house, I was seriously hyperventilating.

I stumbled past everybody into the kitchen where my brother was and could not catch my breath to save my life. My brother had no clue what to do, so he went to the bathroom. (... as you do.) Five minutes later, after I'd collapsed to the floor because I didn't have the energy to stand anymore, after NO ONE had come to check on me, I crawled over to the bathroom door and banged on it.

My brother came back out again and helped me up, at which point I stumbled into the living room. I still can't breathe. I was lying there for ten fucking minutes -- during which both of my parents went in and out of the kitchen for shit -- heavily hyperventilating before my grandmother came in and said, "Jennifer, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not," I'm sobbing between breaths, and she took my pulse and said my heart was going fast but nothing too serious, and I *still* can't breathe, and my parents STILL had better things to do.

Then my grandma went to the bathroom, and I stumbled up into Bryan's room and lie on his bed for twenty minutes or so STILL hyperventilating. By the time I could breathe again, I was fucking LIVID. I got my MP3 player, which I'd dropped onto the nearest table upon arriving and which had been deposited in the kitchen sometime while I COULDN'T FUCKING BREATHE, walked out onto the porch, gave my grandmother a kiss and said, "Thank you for checking on me. I'm going to go now," then left to walk down the hill, which is obviously a lot easier to handle even though I managed to stifle my lightheadedness with volcanic rage.

... I'm pretty sure I heard my mom and dad tell everybody at the party I was doing it for attention.