And it ain't no use in turnin' on your light, babe.
My parents have never fought for me. They are not proud of me and they put forth no more effort to see me or speak to me or know me. This and everything these virtual strangers have and haven't done for me is still a ludicrously large chip on my shoulder. And I'm not sure what I'm hoping to accomplish with this so-called pilgrimage, regarding them. I do know that I spent half of today and some time yesterday sobbing over them (something I've basically avoided doing for months upon months) and that I need to get away from this cyclical lifestyle. Despite my fears of being alone and of being on my own with no real home for a good while. And maybe, during this road trip, just one step of it, I'll forget that I fit nowhere I've been, I'll forget to be awkward and out of sync with everyone and sad and finally be able to take a breath. Just one deep breath. One moment of peace from this noise.
I no longer wish to cry over two people who left me behind so willingly. I no longer wish to nurse these scars. Just let me heal. Let this heal me, whatever it turns out to be this summer. Let me do something right just once in my life. Give me the strength or wisdom or fucking super powers to not fail this one time. Let me love anything without weighing it down with 19 years of everything else.
But for now, really, just let me be alone. I already feel desparately alone, so it would only make sense to uncomplicate things and actually make reality that way as well.
I was going to make a list of people I need to forgive but I'm not really sure it goes beyond the mother and father of this piece. And what am I actually forgiving them for? What lacks in me and in my life that makes me so angry with them? So sad when I see a family and then think of them.
They both let me leave and never personally did much for me while I was around. Yes. Which lead to what ... Invisible, fleeting, unimportant. Me. Fleeting. How apt, for so very very long. Hopping from site to site, always feeling insignificant.
Do I need them to be sorry? Do I need even more than that possibly impossible wish?
God, I know what I want. I want them both to crawl out of the woodwork and encircle me in their arms, even as I cringe at the unfamiliarity of it, and tell me it's all going to be okay. That they love me unconditionally and I'm not this huge disappointment to them. Or worse, this huge intrusion. Tell me they've missed me. That they're proud of me. That I am beautiful.
Fantasties to swirl with on a dance floor. And when the music stops? The songs always end. Music and fantasy and desire have no place here. They will never be this for me.
So. Is this the only thing I can do? If I can't forgive them, if they can't be in my lives, I'm forced to deal with the hole this has always left in me. With the warped ugly girl this leaves behind.
I don't know. I've never known.
I feel as if I'm in a race against time. I turn 20 this November. As a woman, am I still allowed to fail so at life? To stumble unguided and lost and continuously oozing my pain?
Just when I think I've got it. Just when I feel I've buried it enough, that things are coming together and success is dangling on the horizon, that I've worked toward things in a way that would put me finally into this life, everything boils back up in some dibilitating sea and I drown in this identity. I can't figure any of it out. Can't seem to get the hang of being Malorie. Of giving her future.
Still chained in that place where self and worth and dignity and love was stripped away with volume and violence and ignorance and indifference. Made to be quiet, easy, smile on cue.
Born whole and then torn apart from the inside out by the creators. I was a real girl once. And then became some hollow puppet. But I couldn't even do that right. Dance on their strings. Eventually pulling them didn't work. I lost even my grasp on being nobody in particular for them. Couldn't smile anymore. Couldn't love. Couldn't stand them. Couldn't remember what came before that either.
And so I left, incomplete and angry and sad. Warped by tears and plastered on smiles and heavy blows. Ugly and lost.
And then the world. Sometimes it's even more impersonal than that broken home was. Expectations that have everything to do with statistics and nothing to do with specifics. No one is interested in weakness here. It is not to be mentioned. Eat or be eaten. Win or lose. Succeed or fail. No gray areas. No room for anything that deviates.
I tried. A few times. To be driven, to have dreams about school and people and white picket fences. Tried college and dating and picking up the pieces of my family.
That failed, too. Couldn't really feel anything in all of the emptiness. Wasn't really driven to do any of those things. Couldn't stop hurting. Couldn't stop seeing the hurt in everyone else. And people started dropping away, again, so I dropped away, too. A little tired of crawling in the world. Would like to learn how to stand, first.
So much fear, though. So much.
I'm going to try something new. Something quiet and unintrusive. No one else's plan. Leave the world for a bit. Try to find some of that peace. Learn to use these legs.
I'm so ashamed of being this girl and so tired of the shame.
I no longer wish to cry over two people who left me behind so willingly. I no longer wish to nurse these scars. Just let me heal. Let this heal me, whatever it turns out to be this summer. Let me do something right just once in my life. Give me the strength or wisdom or fucking super powers to not fail this one time. Let me love anything without weighing it down with 19 years of everything else.
But for now, really, just let me be alone. I already feel desparately alone, so it would only make sense to uncomplicate things and actually make reality that way as well.
I was going to make a list of people I need to forgive but I'm not really sure it goes beyond the mother and father of this piece. And what am I actually forgiving them for? What lacks in me and in my life that makes me so angry with them? So sad when I see a family and then think of them.
They both let me leave and never personally did much for me while I was around. Yes. Which lead to what ... Invisible, fleeting, unimportant. Me. Fleeting. How apt, for so very very long. Hopping from site to site, always feeling insignificant.
Do I need them to be sorry? Do I need even more than that possibly impossible wish?
God, I know what I want. I want them both to crawl out of the woodwork and encircle me in their arms, even as I cringe at the unfamiliarity of it, and tell me it's all going to be okay. That they love me unconditionally and I'm not this huge disappointment to them. Or worse, this huge intrusion. Tell me they've missed me. That they're proud of me. That I am beautiful.
Fantasties to swirl with on a dance floor. And when the music stops? The songs always end. Music and fantasy and desire have no place here. They will never be this for me.
So. Is this the only thing I can do? If I can't forgive them, if they can't be in my lives, I'm forced to deal with the hole this has always left in me. With the warped ugly girl this leaves behind.
I don't know. I've never known.
I feel as if I'm in a race against time. I turn 20 this November. As a woman, am I still allowed to fail so at life? To stumble unguided and lost and continuously oozing my pain?
Just when I think I've got it. Just when I feel I've buried it enough, that things are coming together and success is dangling on the horizon, that I've worked toward things in a way that would put me finally into this life, everything boils back up in some dibilitating sea and I drown in this identity. I can't figure any of it out. Can't seem to get the hang of being Malorie. Of giving her future.
Still chained in that place where self and worth and dignity and love was stripped away with volume and violence and ignorance and indifference. Made to be quiet, easy, smile on cue.
Born whole and then torn apart from the inside out by the creators. I was a real girl once. And then became some hollow puppet. But I couldn't even do that right. Dance on their strings. Eventually pulling them didn't work. I lost even my grasp on being nobody in particular for them. Couldn't smile anymore. Couldn't love. Couldn't stand them. Couldn't remember what came before that either.
And so I left, incomplete and angry and sad. Warped by tears and plastered on smiles and heavy blows. Ugly and lost.
And then the world. Sometimes it's even more impersonal than that broken home was. Expectations that have everything to do with statistics and nothing to do with specifics. No one is interested in weakness here. It is not to be mentioned. Eat or be eaten. Win or lose. Succeed or fail. No gray areas. No room for anything that deviates.
I tried. A few times. To be driven, to have dreams about school and people and white picket fences. Tried college and dating and picking up the pieces of my family.
That failed, too. Couldn't really feel anything in all of the emptiness. Wasn't really driven to do any of those things. Couldn't stop hurting. Couldn't stop seeing the hurt in everyone else. And people started dropping away, again, so I dropped away, too. A little tired of crawling in the world. Would like to learn how to stand, first.
So much fear, though. So much.
I'm going to try something new. Something quiet and unintrusive. No one else's plan. Leave the world for a bit. Try to find some of that peace. Learn to use these legs.
I'm so ashamed of being this girl and so tired of the shame.