When the Lights Are Left On
When I was 15,16,17, I was turning the lights off in my mom's house often.
She would leave them on late at night and walk away, off to her room. Off to bed.
I have, had, been climate concious since 12,13. The occurrence occurred more frequently as I got older. The stress, perturbance, that associated itself to my insistince that the lights be turned off, levyed through my mom, and she would be upset that I wanted the lights off and I would be upset that it seemed as though she wanted our house flooded with light in late hours of the night.
Around that time we began to struggle to love each other. Small things like the lights , big things like this one time, she sent this photo of me, on stage during a show choir performance. With the camera aimed upwards from her seat off stage, while I wore a skirt several feet above her.
I don't know if that's the only photo she took.
I don't know if she sent him other photos.
I don't know if she ever saw up my skirt.
I don't know if the camera did. I don't know if he did.
I didn't want photos of me as a minor in any position to be sent to any man she was flirting with.
Whether they had met online or honestly, that she were romantically engaged with him at all. And so we argued on that.
And then she put photos of the three of us, me, 16, and my siblings whom were younger on her dating profiles. And so what started with the lights being on and off and on and off through arguing- became take these photos off your dating profile,as she continued to bring men home whilst My youngest sibling slept near her open bedroon door.