Neo Adolescence?
New discoveries, not even all that much fun. I'm in the mood to write and am too tired to pick up a pen; I have nowhere else to go but here.
I've discovered that my mother is somewhat racist. This hurts just a little more than it might otherwise because all these past few years my mother has been slowly slipping away from me, turning into a creature I no longer know, recognize, or understand. It's so hard because we love each other in absolutes, and yet she keeps on this downward spiral that makes me cry and curl away from the world if I think too long about it. I am holding a sieve and the mother I remember falls right through it, unsalvageable, and we diverge like gentle mammoth glaciers out to open sea.
She has always wanted me to marry someone "of my blood," but it's never been such a strong issue as it has now. In her eyes I grew up in America, and my cousin is pureblooded, and I am a little tainted by upbringing, so it's ok if my children are not pure because they will grow up as Americans. But it is unacceptable for my cousin to have an American boyfriend; she should only be with someone pure, someone from back home. Earlier I was furious. Now I'm just tired, too tired to cry, not too tired to be sad. When did my mother become a bigot? When did she change? And my answer for myself is no, she's always been this way. I'm just now taking her down from the pedestal, there is a fire in the wax house. I have to figure out a new way to love her, because this can't go on and she will never be different.
I feel only mildly self indulgent this way. You are nothing but a computer screen right now, and I have no reason to keep secrets from electromagnetism. Somewhere there is a place where this hurt doesn't exist.
I've discovered that my mother is somewhat racist. This hurts just a little more than it might otherwise because all these past few years my mother has been slowly slipping away from me, turning into a creature I no longer know, recognize, or understand. It's so hard because we love each other in absolutes, and yet she keeps on this downward spiral that makes me cry and curl away from the world if I think too long about it. I am holding a sieve and the mother I remember falls right through it, unsalvageable, and we diverge like gentle mammoth glaciers out to open sea.
She has always wanted me to marry someone "of my blood," but it's never been such a strong issue as it has now. In her eyes I grew up in America, and my cousin is pureblooded, and I am a little tainted by upbringing, so it's ok if my children are not pure because they will grow up as Americans. But it is unacceptable for my cousin to have an American boyfriend; she should only be with someone pure, someone from back home. Earlier I was furious. Now I'm just tired, too tired to cry, not too tired to be sad. When did my mother become a bigot? When did she change? And my answer for myself is no, she's always been this way. I'm just now taking her down from the pedestal, there is a fire in the wax house. I have to figure out a new way to love her, because this can't go on and she will never be different.
I feel only mildly self indulgent this way. You are nothing but a computer screen right now, and I have no reason to keep secrets from electromagnetism. Somewhere there is a place where this hurt doesn't exist.