OUT is not an acronym. It’s just the word “out” in all capital letters, which seem to better convey the desperation behind the word.
The OUT Fund is not an actual fund, in that it’s not related to any bank or organization and no one in the world knows about it except me. Because it’s my OUT Fund.
The idea behind the OUT Fund is that if I keep adding to it and saving money, I’ll have some money to use when I “get out.” I don’t know if that means running away or getting kicked out or just going away to college, it’s just money for my life without my parents.
Some back ground might be necessary.
My relationship with my dad is, well, a bit shaky. He’s usually just an awkward and annoying father of two teenagers who tries to be cool and supportive but fails in a way that’s just embarrassing. And that’s natural. But then every now and then (maybe every other month, though it’s growing more and more frequent) shit happens and suddenly it’s just verbal abuse and yelling at everyone and being a dick and it usually ends in me crying myself to sleep.
I love my friends to death, but I don’t think any of them fully understand how terrified of my dad I am. I complain about him so much it turns into “the little phan who cried daddy issues.” My friends are supportive, but I can’t even talk to them about this stuff. But I do have my eternal confidant: my kin.
After the last major indecent happened, my brother let me in on a little secret. He’s been doing research of possible repercussions and he has planned to, depending on how things are going then, to skip town a few days after he turns 18. It’s all completely legal as long as it’s clear that he left of his own free will.
And then he’s leaving for college next year.
He’s leaving me hear. Alone.
So I realized I might not make it that long. I have emergency money in case I just need to get away.I call it the OUT Fund because when I first made it, I was having a break down and the only coherent thought I could manage was scratching the word OUT on a leaf of paper that would label the fund.
So now I have the means of escape, or they’re growing. Not that I plan on running away any time soon. Most likely it’ll just be savings for my post-parent life, come when it may.
But it’s soothing when I’m trying to sob quietly and have my door barricaded and I’m pretending to sleep. It makes me remember that it will end and things will get better.
Preparing for a future makes it more tangible.
So one day, when I need to, I’m OUT.
(fun fact my OUT Fund is stored in a glass soda bottle I keep in a large pocket of my guitar case)