Insomnia & Sorrow & Sex and The City
What is it that makes my eyes burn late at night? I’ll be watching Sex and The City and tears will prick at the back of my eyes. But, why? What is it that Carry Bradshaw says that hits so close to home? My life is nothing like hers.
So what is it about that show that makes me look at myself? Late-night self examination is never good. The middle of the night is when you are most into you ‘alone self’. Maybe, it’s when you’re at you best, or maybe it’s when you’re at your worst. For me, it’s when I’m at my most vulnerable and my harshest.
Why does it hurt more when you point out your own flaws? Your own short-comings? Is it because there’s no denying it? No lying to yourself? When someone else points out your flaws it’s easy to deny it. You can always say ‘they don’t know what they’re talking about’ or ‘they just don’t get me’. But, not when it’s you. No one know you better than you know yourself. No one know all your secrets, like you do.
How did I get to this point? And, how long will I be here? It feels like I’ve been in this same spot for years. It feels like I’m floating in limbo with no way out. Am I just stuck in a rut? Or, is it something more?
When, I look at myself, really look at myself, even that part of my that I only acknowlegde late at night, I hate myself. I want to get rid of that part of me. I want to kill it. But, how do I do that without losing the rest of me? How will I be able to accept myself wile that part is still there? While it still has such a strong hold on me?
I’ve often heard people say ‘what doesn’t kill you, just makes you stronger’. Well, I don’t feel stronger. Or, better off for learning whatever lesson it was that I learned. I feel worthless.
Sometimes, I put on an act. For my mom, or for my friends. I put on a happy face even when it hurts so bad inside that I want to scream. Sometimes, it’s hard, even for me, to tell the difference between the act and the actually happiness.
Other times, I forget the acr and I. . .sulk, I guess you’d call it. But, even then I don’t talk about it. I just keep it bottled up, and hidden away.
Half the time it’s because I don’t even know what’s wrong. What triggers those little periods of depression that I can’t find a reason for?
Still, other times I don’t talk becasue I think no one will understand. But, really, what does it matter if they understand or not? They’ll try, and if they can’t, at least I let it out. Right?
What do I really ahve to be sad about anyway? I have a great family. My mom is amazing. I mean, we fight, but who doesn’t fight with their mom? My is not-so-great, but at least he’s kind of there, right? I have a wonderful stepmom, whom I can talk to about anything. I have adorable little sisters and a little brother. I have amazing friends and an outstanding big brother, whom I look up to and adore. [he's my hero] And, there’s also the amazing boyfriend.
So, what’s missing? Why is there such a big hole in my life that only seems to grow bigger the more I try to fill it? What am I searching for?
The Parental Unit [the mom-bot]
My mom and I look a lot alike. We sound and talk the same. That’s as far as the simularities go, though.
She loves pink and flowers and butterflies. I like black, skulls, and studs. She listens to classic country, R&B, and the Bangles. I like punk rock, hard roack, and Papa Roach is my favorite band.
She thinks that we think alike, but to be honest, what goes on inside my head scares the shit out of her. She’s a goody-two-shoes, and I’m a rebel. She likes to keep me under her thumb, but I need room to breath. When, she pulls the reins tighter, I just want to rebel more. She smothers me.
She always wants me to talk to her, but when I do, she always makes me feel stupid. What’s even worse is that she does it without meaning to. It sucks.
I’m not saying that I don’t love my mom. Because, I do. She’s amazing. She just doesn’t get me. [sorry for the cliche]
My mother is actually an amazing woman. She’s a single parent, and she works two jobs to support us. She puts up with [most of] my crap. She’s been through so much in her life, and it’s only made her stronger. She’s a strong, and amazingly brave woman.
She’s just so damn infuriating sometimes! Of course, she probably says the same about me. All the time.
Nothing Gold Can Stay
her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower,
but only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
so Eden sank to grief.
Then dawn goes down to day,
nothing gold can stay.”
