I Am Invisible. I Am Inaudible.

I did not want this boy to stay here and I said so.   I said it in a whisper.  I said it in a scream.  I said it in a calm voice. I said it in a trembling voice.  I wrote it.  I sang it.  I texted it.  I posted it.  I tweeted it.   I did not want this boy to stay here and I said so.

And yet.  He stays. Today he got a package addressed to him.  Here.  This is now his address.  This boy that I said I did not want to stay here.   Now gets mail here.  I did not want this boy to stay here and I said so.

And yet.  He stays. Today I was taking out the recycling and found a cut-down box that once held a mini-fridge.   I can't even bring myself to look because I know the mini-fridge is in my daughter's room. This boy that I said I did not want to stay here.  Now shares a mini-fridge with my daughter in her room.  I did not want this boy to stay here and I said so.

And yet.  He stays.  I am not comfortable with him here, I said.  It is not good idea for our daughter and her boyfriend to live together in our house, I said.   I have the right to say who gets to live here and who does not, I said.  But I was overruled by nothing.  By the nothing that was said when I said what I said.

I said I did not want this boy to stay here.  And he said nothing.  I said if this boy were to stay here, he would have to sleep on the couch.  And he said nothing.  I said I didn't want this boy to smoke pot here.  And he said nothing.  I said I didn't want this boy to drive our car.  And he said nothing.  I ranted and raved and shook my fists.  I ranted and raved and stomped my feet.   

And he said nothing.

I am invisible, inaudible.  My rage makes me shrink to nothing to fit inside the nothing that he says.  

"I am not listening to you because you are yelling.  I do not respect you because you cannot contain your anger."  That is something that he says.

"I am yelling because you are not listening to me.  I cannot contain my anger because you do not respect me."  That is something that I say.

There is a boy living in my daughter's room with her in my house and I said I did not want him to and no one is saying anything and no one is listening to me and no one respects me. 

I do an invisible dance with my fists and my stomping feet.   I sing an inaudible song with my whisper voice, my scream voice, my calm voice, my trembling voice.  I did not want this boy to stay here and I said so.  And yet.  He stays.