for the love of ;
I swore to myself after I stepped out of the shower, while I towel dried my hair, that if I found even a single cigarette in their room, I would take the liberty of lighting it up and smoking it. Even though I have never smoked in my life (yet), and have multiple promises to not smoke, ever, I know this want to try it will forever haunt me until the day I finally do follow through with it. It's not healthy, I know it more than anything, but their room is so empty, so very empty, that more than just an unfilled, emptied out room, it has become a void in my heart. If I find even a single one of my grandpa's smokes, I will use it, not as a sign of rebellion or an adolescent craving, but something even more than that...I want to finish up this chapter of a story that is a part of my life and create an entirely new one.
My grandparents, for as long as I can remember, have lived in that room, in this house. The only times they were not sleeping in that room was when they were away on holiday, overseas with relatives in China. (And when they were gone, I remember sleeping in their room from time to time when I was young, the ticking of my grandmother's little clock haunted me, and my childish imagination reign free, eclipsing me in thoughts of scary creatures and ghosts as I laid in an unfamiliar bed.) She had raised me, my grandma, and she was the one who had watched me grow up. I know she isn't perfect, my grandma, I know this for a solid fact, and I also know my grandpa isn't perfect either, far from it with his gambling and smoking habits, but they were the only ones that I would ever have in that one specific way and despite the ever obvious flaws that mostly I chose to ignore and look away at, I love them so dearly. While everyone didn't miss them when they moved out, I do immensely.
I am not a conformist.
I will not fall to my mom's words, trying to convince me that it is way better this way. I will not listen to my brother saying we will all be happier this way. Because I want my own opinion, and my opinion is that I love them and will miss them so much, so much that no matter how many words I type up, think of, and write, it will never do the heavy feeling in my chest any justice. Maybe everything is better this way, I have no doubt of that, but I refuse to swallow down my feelings anymore than I am already, and say,
yes, it's better this way, and yes, we'll all be happier.
I won't lie, because I know I will still miss them so much.
They're just moving out, it shouldn't be a big deal, right?
It's more than just not being able to see them everyday anymore. It's more than just not having them there anymore. A deeper than that sadness consumes me, there is more reason why I cry for this parting. I know along my lifetime there will be many that leave me and many that I leave behind, it is inevitable, all a part of what is life. People come, people go, people live, people die. That's how things work. No one can stay forever as no one can live forever, eventually one is left behind while the other lives, or even eventually both just leave each other to depart on their separate ways. I know this, but like many others who know this, when it happens, even if I know this, it doesn't stop it from hurting despite knowing.
The grandma and grandpa that were there since my birth, for as long as I remember, have left. They have left me behind with tears...the tears that I now cry and have cried, and the tears that my grandma have cried the night before the day she left. But even if physically she has left me, I know that in other ways I am leaving her, and have begun to leave her even while she was still living underneath this roof. She had to suffer through the loneliness of me being less and less dependent on her, of both me and my brother living our own lives now, not spending our time with her really anymore. She had to live with not being needed as much to the point that she pretty much was only making meals for us. Quite a few times though, I would skip what she had cooked, and reached for a can of food or what my mom would pick up after work, only diminishing her role even further. And now I wish all the times that I have done that, I should have just swallowed my feelings down and just ate what she made anyways. One bad meal couldn't have killed me, even if it were things that I didn't want to eat, I should have ate them anyways. I didn't know my meals cooked by her were limited. And all the times I spent going out, on my laptop, I should have spent more of that time with her. I didn't understand the loneliness of watching someone you raised grow up, and even now I don't fully understand it, but I know enough of it to know that it's just so very....sad.
I can only live with the regrets now, there is nothing I can do to undo things and to change things. They have left and I have been also leaving them behind all along.
I want to lie on their naked mattress, emptied out room, and dream and sing and take pictures and write, and just live. If I find a cigarette that has been left behind, I will smoke it. And maybe the me who is an alcoholic in the making (I won't deny it) will also become a smoker, which is ironic as...my uncle who has lung cancer despite having quite smoking for ages now, has just finished the only treatment he could get, as he is an illegal immigrant here who had worked for my other uncle in a restaurant. he moved back to live the remainder of his life back in China with his family there, and they, the doctors, say he has only six months to nine months or even a year to live. Despite that i wouldn't mind having a smoke, not because I am just stupid, but rather because I need something worth living for that I have yet to find. That I need to close another book and open a new one.
I am not looking for preachers who will badger me about health, health, health, trust me I know about health risks and all that, and I am still stupid enough to be ignorant to it. I just wanted to get these thoughts out, this jumble of mess that many of you will probably skip over as just another post made by those you list as a friend. Maybe a small amount of you will remember me as the girl who wrote this and that fanfiction, and for the record, I am never going to write fanfiction ever again. Why? I want to become a writer of a novel, something purely born of me. I will not be adding anymore people who add me for my fanfiction, because those stories don't matter anymore, they are just the past now. And this may be the last post I ever make in this journal, because I know barely anyone will read this, if anyone will at all, so this journal and this post if just pointless.
To be honest, the only point of this, is just that I wanted to write something that is the truth. That I will maybe twist later to braid if with works of fiction. Because, after all, the best works are ones based on personal experiences added in there.
Last of all, thank you everyone for being a part of my past and in therefore helping build the person I am today, no matter how big or small a role you have played. I want to thank you all for excellent memories and for just existing.
You are all important, never doubt that.
Thank you and good luck to wherever life may bring you.