Usually when I think of the Id directive, I think of a bad ass; someone who breaks the rules with no remorse. I got an idea of writing a short story about Barbie being a cold-hearted doll who isn’t about smiles and giggles.
There was always a part of me that felt fake. Through all the smiles and postive attitude, deep down I just wanted to let it all go. I wanted to be free. My whole persona felt like shackles to my soul. I felt like I was chained to a wall in solitary confinement. Then, I snapped. During a cookout, neighbors and friends came over, it was a good time. Then someone mentioned what I was doing in my free time, Ken just said I was a housewife. I know he meant no harm, but that word…it was a curse. So I snapped, I picked a fight with one of the other wives, I didn’t like her to begin with any ways. She kept wondering why I wanted to fight, but I grabbed her hair and gave her the hardest uppercut I’ve ever given anyone. She fell back with blood flowing from her nose. Her husband said, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” I said, “You want some too?” I turned to Ken and said, “Honey, I’m not a housewife…not anymore.” Left the house, took the convertible and drove far from there. Now, I’m in the middle of a crappy city with a pack of cigarettes in my pocket even though I don’t smoke. Unbeknownst to me, the woman I hit back at the cookout, was an FBI agent. Now, there’s a whole bunch of cops everywhere looking for me. After buying my cigarettes, I saw cops searching my car, so I just walked the other way. I’m a bit on edge, but I’m not scared. Have to keep moving. I feel bad for leaving Ken, but I can’t live that life anymore. I do regret punching that FBI lady, but she was a bit a of a bitch so she had it coming. At least now, I feel free.