swollen, swollen human.
i stare at her picture on my desk, her form in a lavender shirt, short-sleeved, her right palm pointing toward me. i keep telling her how unreal it still feels, and i wonder if she agrees with me.
some people tell me that i'm such a strong person, but what i think they don't realise is that it's just an inadvertent cover-- my compulsive personality type makes me appear as though i'm a well-composed person, but this is hardly any truth to match up with my skin. or even my freckles.
only a few more days until i graduate. she was the one person i wanted to see in the stands. i was going to be her first child to finally graduate from college. 2 dropped out. 1 took some classes but didn't go for a degree. and here i am with a high gpa that feels nice sometimes, but really is just a number. and it looks as though i have all these accomplishments under my belt, but they really have nothing in common with the way the real world works. college, at least the first two years of it, has been just one big joyride of good opportunities and oh you know, me fulfilling myself as a person. i can't imagine real life being like that, at least not that real life i'll soon be delving into. but maybe ? perhaps if i have exceedingly low expectations, any good that comes of it will be a pleasant surprise.
i would so much like to hear her voice. to have her talk back to me when i ask her things or start conversations with her. i am 22. i feel pathetic. i don't want to be told that my grief is a crutch. i want to be offered the maximum (not that it's even much) amount of sympathy for my situation (rude little selfish thing i am), and i don't want to to be looked down upon for being sad that i have no mother, and that my mother was suddenly no longer allowed to live the life she wanted so badly as of the 18th of february in 2006. i want to be allowed to have my grief since it is all i have left anyway. it has been a year and a few months. i am a broken piece of human, but then again i was a fool to think i was ever anything but that.
it would be great if i was less naive in the past, if i had realised how short my time was with her, but i never really did so well grasp the cornerstones of reality. and regret is its own fat theme in life, but i would at least like to have some right to my emotions. i don't want to be told how i feel. my mother said the same thing. i wish people would understand the importance of that. i'm sure anyone would be a little ticked if i suddenly started telling them how they felt, especially if i was not even accurate, though fully convinced of myself !!! yea. postal.
smokescreens are everything.