part deux
Maybe I've finally come to peace with all the snakes and spiders in the (my) world.
I feel sick to my stomach. It's my 20th birthday tomorrow. 20. I feel like I just turned 14. Honestly? I'm scared. I really want to see people and talk and try to put this whole age thing out of my mind but I can't. Everybody's gone or busy so I'm stuck by myself to really think about this birthday. Most people are happy about it, it means only one year left until that epitomal time in a young adult's life...
I sort of just want to hide.
I've noticed I want to be alone a lot recently. I like doing things by myself. I like running by myself, biking by myself, eating by myself. I don't have to worry about going too fast or too slow or too much for anyone that could be with me.
My great-grandma is in the hospital right now. She's dying. She's 93 (94? 92?). My mom said today that she must know that she's dying by now. She was taking 6 breaths an hour today, they all thought it was her last. I went to my grandma's house (mom's mom, great-grandma's daughter) and came across some pictures her mother had kept in her house for years, until now because she's in the hospital and they're selling her home. There were pictures of my mom when she was 3ish. I can't forget this picture of my mom, and her mom (who looks nothing like my grandma) and my great-grandma (who also looks nothing like what I've ever known her as). My great-grandma and grandma are kneeling in the grass, both wearing nice skirts and blouses, with my mom sitting on her mom's knee, an they're all smiling. Well, except for my mom; she just looks confused. I've never seen them all that happy.
All I can do is imagine the lives they must have had before I was ever even a mere thought to them. There's so much life between those women that I know nothing about. And someday I will be one of them. And there will be one of me, some great or just regular grand-daughter, looking at 40 year old pictures, and wondering what happened in all those years.
I found a job. I'm working at Sonic again, but this time it's the one in the valley.
I want to run 5 miles every day this summer that I'm not playing ultimate or biking.
I don't think I'm doing enough with my life. I'm not even that good at what I do.
I've been told a few different times in the last 6 months or so that I, as a person, want to know a lot. That I'm just really curious and interested in all sorts of things and I get involved in things that don't really matter to other people and I guess that I'm intellectual.
Really, I just feel like that guy in "A Beautiful Mind". Making up things scenarious and theories and things to entertain myself or upset myself constantly. Pretty sure I'm not schizophrenic, although my mom's dad was. I do recall that it runs mostly in males, though.
Which reminds me of my Utah trip and listening to all the excuciating small-talk that occurred. People think I'm really quiet, but it's only because I am absolutely terrible at and have no interest in talking about...small things? The people that think I'm quiet will always think I'm quiet. Those that give me a chance and maybe actually want to talk about something of substance, or at least something interesting will know otherwise. I wonder if those small-talkers feel fulfilled? Not to say that it's not necessary sometimes, but I really feel like with those people that you're meant to be friends with, you hit it off or at least notice you have a connection almost immediately.
My hands are dry as shit. Time to moisturize.
I feel sick to my stomach. It's my 20th birthday tomorrow. 20. I feel like I just turned 14. Honestly? I'm scared. I really want to see people and talk and try to put this whole age thing out of my mind but I can't. Everybody's gone or busy so I'm stuck by myself to really think about this birthday. Most people are happy about it, it means only one year left until that epitomal time in a young adult's life...
I sort of just want to hide.
I've noticed I want to be alone a lot recently. I like doing things by myself. I like running by myself, biking by myself, eating by myself. I don't have to worry about going too fast or too slow or too much for anyone that could be with me.
My great-grandma is in the hospital right now. She's dying. She's 93 (94? 92?). My mom said today that she must know that she's dying by now. She was taking 6 breaths an hour today, they all thought it was her last. I went to my grandma's house (mom's mom, great-grandma's daughter) and came across some pictures her mother had kept in her house for years, until now because she's in the hospital and they're selling her home. There were pictures of my mom when she was 3ish. I can't forget this picture of my mom, and her mom (who looks nothing like my grandma) and my great-grandma (who also looks nothing like what I've ever known her as). My great-grandma and grandma are kneeling in the grass, both wearing nice skirts and blouses, with my mom sitting on her mom's knee, an they're all smiling. Well, except for my mom; she just looks confused. I've never seen them all that happy.
All I can do is imagine the lives they must have had before I was ever even a mere thought to them. There's so much life between those women that I know nothing about. And someday I will be one of them. And there will be one of me, some great or just regular grand-daughter, looking at 40 year old pictures, and wondering what happened in all those years.
I found a job. I'm working at Sonic again, but this time it's the one in the valley.
I want to run 5 miles every day this summer that I'm not playing ultimate or biking.
I don't think I'm doing enough with my life. I'm not even that good at what I do.
I've been told a few different times in the last 6 months or so that I, as a person, want to know a lot. That I'm just really curious and interested in all sorts of things and I get involved in things that don't really matter to other people and I guess that I'm intellectual.
Really, I just feel like that guy in "A Beautiful Mind". Making up things scenarious and theories and things to entertain myself or upset myself constantly. Pretty sure I'm not schizophrenic, although my mom's dad was. I do recall that it runs mostly in males, though.
Which reminds me of my Utah trip and listening to all the excuciating small-talk that occurred. People think I'm really quiet, but it's only because I am absolutely terrible at and have no interest in talking about...small things? The people that think I'm quiet will always think I'm quiet. Those that give me a chance and maybe actually want to talk about something of substance, or at least something interesting will know otherwise. I wonder if those small-talkers feel fulfilled? Not to say that it's not necessary sometimes, but I really feel like with those people that you're meant to be friends with, you hit it off or at least notice you have a connection almost immediately.
My hands are dry as shit. Time to moisturize.