(no subject)
I don't really know what to think about anything. So much has happened to me, is happening, and yet it feels like nothing at all. Life, death, school, leisure, excitement, boredom, highs, lows, love, apathy. It runs together and mixes up and I don't know what to think. I have been somewhat thoughtful and out-of-it lately, because two anniversaries are coming up. Next week is the anniversary of my mother's death, and subsequently her birthday the day after that. Then in July, it will be one year since I met Alex and started dating him. Again, I don't know what to think. The problem is love. I don't know if I can feel it. Just over six months ago, I was going on and on about being in love with Alex, but now I am not so sure. I supposedly love my mother, but if that's the case, then how can I live without her? Sometimes, it feels like I don't even care that she's dead. She's just...not here. And it doesn't seem to matter much at all. Yes, my father, brother, and aunt are devastated, but I am perfectly able to ignore the reality of the situation and just go about my business. Sure, I get sad sometimes, but it usually passes quickly. For eighteen years of my life, I clung to my mother. She was my number one confidante and I told her everything. I didn't do everything with her, but it was significantly more than I did with anyone else. She was just always there. She was a stay-at-home mom until I was seven. She got employment at Wayside elementary school so that she could be at home with me when my day at school ended. She got me up for school in the morning, made me breakfast, and saw me off. I would get home from school and not even an hour would pass before she came through the door. Sometimes we would go places together, but usually I was content to watch cartoons all afternoon or play on the computer. I used to hate shopping as a kid, but Mom would take me with her to JCPenney, Kohl's, Upton's, and Marshall's. I hated trying things on because it proved too much of a hassle to my impatient and child-like psyche. Every time we went grocery shopping at Giant, I would receive a chocolate lollipop in the florist section and then munch on a piece of American cheese in the milk section. It never took long for me to grow impatient as Mom did her shopping. She later developed a fondness for Magruder's, which was slightly more inconvenient for me since they did not have a specific aisle for magazines in which I could sit down in and the read teenybopper magazines I have long since outgrown. Afterwords, we would go home and Mom would make me dinner. My Dad only joined us occasionally, because he always worked late. I wasn't really that close with him. We would have our Daddy-Daughter Days in which we would go out to eat at a restaurant or I would sometimes accompany him to his messy office, but most of the time I spent with him was also with Mom. All three of us liked to go out to family dinner sometimes, to save my Mom the hassle of cooking. Dad took us to the circus so many times during my life that I have grown to hate it with a passion. We'd go to folk festivals in Washington and Glen Echo, visit my Mom's side of the family in Baltimore so often it felt like once a week to me, and to a much lesser extent we traveled to Florida and Georgia to visit my Dad's side of the family.
What was I even talking about?
I don't know if I've written this down her before, but my Mom always used to say that I'd appreciate her when I'm older. I would then reply that I already appreciate her. After all, though doubt I ever said this to her, she cooked for me, cleaned the house, took care of me when I was hurt or sick, kept me entertained (usually), helped me with my schoolwork, offered a shoulder for me to cry on, lent an ear to listen to my complaints and worries, gave a second opinion in matters of the heart, held me close, spent time with me, bought me clothes and toys and anything I could ever want, and did so with love. Sure, she complained and nagged and yelled and generally annoyed sometimes, but that was okay. With the amount of time we spent together, it was only natural that we get sick of each other. However, in contrast to that, I could not spend more than a few days without her lest I become incredibly homesick.
Now she is dead. All I have are countless memories and the legacy she has left. I've grown numb to the pain if it was even there at all and I have succeeded in almost completely replacing her. Now, my Dad has received the position of my number one confidante. Selfish, I know, but I, like the rest of the human- and animal-kind, am an inherently selfish person. In the long run, it is only I that matter. Me not you. Neither him nor her. Neither my family nor my friends. I only need myself to survive. Everyone else is expendable. This does not go to say that I can live without people. I would probably go insane if I were left all alone. But if one person were to leave me, no matter how close I was to that person or how wedged he or she was in my life, I would be able to survive virtually unscathed. This does not mean I don't have certain fears. I do. I am afraid of my father getting very sick or getting into some kind of accident and subsequently dying. He worries me a lot. I have grown to rely and depend on him almost as much as I did my mother, the only differences being that I am older and more independent and jaded than I was so many years ago, and that he is not around as often due to his job and my being away at school. But I still need him. If he were to disappear, then I would be an orphan. An orphan. That's a scary word, despite how often it appears in literature and pop culture. If he were to die, then I feel like I would be truly alone in this world, despite how many friends and family members I have. I'm scared, but if something were to happen, I would survive in much the same way I have been surviving these three years since my Mom was first diagnosed with that blasted brain tumor. Three years. What was my life even like before this?!
I don't love; I rely. This goes for my mother, father, brother, boyfriend, and friends alike. I don't love any of them; I just am used to having them around.
What was I even talking about?
I don't know if I've written this down her before, but my Mom always used to say that I'd appreciate her when I'm older. I would then reply that I already appreciate her. After all, though doubt I ever said this to her, she cooked for me, cleaned the house, took care of me when I was hurt or sick, kept me entertained (usually), helped me with my schoolwork, offered a shoulder for me to cry on, lent an ear to listen to my complaints and worries, gave a second opinion in matters of the heart, held me close, spent time with me, bought me clothes and toys and anything I could ever want, and did so with love. Sure, she complained and nagged and yelled and generally annoyed sometimes, but that was okay. With the amount of time we spent together, it was only natural that we get sick of each other. However, in contrast to that, I could not spend more than a few days without her lest I become incredibly homesick.
Now she is dead. All I have are countless memories and the legacy she has left. I've grown numb to the pain if it was even there at all and I have succeeded in almost completely replacing her. Now, my Dad has received the position of my number one confidante. Selfish, I know, but I, like the rest of the human- and animal-kind, am an inherently selfish person. In the long run, it is only I that matter. Me not you. Neither him nor her. Neither my family nor my friends. I only need myself to survive. Everyone else is expendable. This does not go to say that I can live without people. I would probably go insane if I were left all alone. But if one person were to leave me, no matter how close I was to that person or how wedged he or she was in my life, I would be able to survive virtually unscathed. This does not mean I don't have certain fears. I do. I am afraid of my father getting very sick or getting into some kind of accident and subsequently dying. He worries me a lot. I have grown to rely and depend on him almost as much as I did my mother, the only differences being that I am older and more independent and jaded than I was so many years ago, and that he is not around as often due to his job and my being away at school. But I still need him. If he were to disappear, then I would be an orphan. An orphan. That's a scary word, despite how often it appears in literature and pop culture. If he were to die, then I feel like I would be truly alone in this world, despite how many friends and family members I have. I'm scared, but if something were to happen, I would survive in much the same way I have been surviving these three years since my Mom was first diagnosed with that blasted brain tumor. Three years. What was my life even like before this?!
I don't love; I rely. This goes for my mother, father, brother, boyfriend, and friends alike. I don't love any of them; I just am used to having them around.