'KATHERINE, STOP SINGING!' by Ravyn LaRue

I was washing the red out of my hair when I got the notion to sing.
So I sang.
I decided to triumph in spite of the hideous atmosphere that surrounds me daily and stifles my singing.
So I sang in a muffled voice.
Subdued still, but steady.
My tone was softer than that of a church mouse when I began to hear some rumbling.
I briefly recoiled, imagining a wanna be Norman Bates prowling about the dorm.
I decided to sing anyways since it made me less scared.
And, if I were to choose, I would like to go out singing.
And as I sang about being stifled
The bathroom door swung open
And a voice imbued with more vitriol than had ever before been directed at me screamed,
"STOP SINGING, KATHERINE!"
And that same meek soul from my former freshmen year answered without a second thought,
"Okay."
And as my roommate slammed the door, I whispered in defeat, "Goddamn."
I tightened my lips, though I then could think of endless songs that felt the way I now felt.
And my internal monologue started screaming,
"I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it more than the hoarding house!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it more than Saint Marks!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
At least there I could sing without being screamed at!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!"
And then my inner monologue cried
"I want Ms.Hart."
After that I shattered
Millions of pieces of me lied along with the stray hair and stubble on the shower floor.
I wanted to scream catharsis to spite my roommate, but then I remembered I'm a nice person.
So I merely cried.
It's a Thursday, and I had done so well this week going this long without crying.
But I needed to.
I also needed to sing and scream
But because of niceness which shrouded meekness, I just went about with my tears.
Her hateful voice rang inside my head and got me angrier.
And the imp of the perverse made me think of all the clever things I could do with the razor.
For her and I both.
But I'm still strong.
And she's a mean soul, and I'd rather not be killed at such a young age.
She's quite content with killing herself, and I doubt I could appeal to her humanity.
If she ever had any to begin with.
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I want home, where I don't get hurt when I sing.
I need it.
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!
I hate it here!