In a World that is growing to be mediocre at best I find myself to constantly be sidestepping the stones being thrown at me. To imagine a World where we are free of thought but all likelihood to reoffend I find myself wondering what is the point of it all anyways? Every word, every meaning, distorted to suit the needs of sick twisted individuals whose own unhappiness oozes through their pores. We are hardened with our own disgust of the World and would sooner resort to hate then any other kind of human emotion that we as individuals can find ourselves embracing.
Why does it seem that the only truth that knows us died with the decisions of those we don’t even know. For months I have endured this onslaught of private humiliation that is making me weak in the knees. If I focus on the words that are being said enforced with actions I can’t help but let the fear overtake me. My tears try to comfort my insecurities as I muster up the strength to be the mother that my son deserves. He doesn’t need to be the one to look at me with wide eyes and try to wipe away my tears. I am scared of never having a true friend again, somebody to talk to. I know I have been a terrible friend over the years, I am living proof of my inability to be kind to myself. Everyday I tremble as I am consumed with the poisonous thoughts of the World around me.
Will I never be able to make a crewed joke like a used to. My humour has always been rather on the dry side, better served with alcohol. Nobody notices me. Sometimes I think am I really here? What will it take for my life to have meaning outside of being a mom. Is that my truest identity that I signed, sealed and delivered on that day my son was given to me? If it is so then I can stop trying to be something more knowing that what I am is good enough. Did you ever get so scared of checking your social media out of fear of what you might find. My scars have yet to heal from the last betrayal that has just reconfirmed my fears that maybe I was not designed to hold outside relationships. I already know that it is me. I already know that I am easier to hate than to love. Have I pretending to be somebody I am not…worst of all am I a terrible mom?
I thought my life made sense. I thought in some ways we were happy but like everything else in life all I feel are all these ways that I fail as a human. My son woke up at 4 this morning with urine soaked sheets. I didn’t know hot to make him happy. I couldn’t find the toys that he needed. My head hurts as I try to keep the house calm and quiet so my husband an sleep. Creeping into the kitchen to get a bottle of milk I am greeted by mess with dishes and garbage everywhere that reconfirms how terrible I am at this. My husband tells me to clean as I go but this is just advice for me to follow. Every day is a slap in the face as I hectically scramble to fix those problems that my husband hates. Did you ever think that the whole World hates you, well aside from my son. Maybe he does though how would I be to know?
I am so confused and overwhelmed with the scorn looks of so many judgemental eyes. Did you ever scream at the top of your lungs looking for somebody to save you but nothing comes out? I know that I am stronger than this desperate plea for attention but I have never felt so alone. Is there anybody out there? Was I born just to take orders then succumb to my own poison as I take my last breath? I can’t help but cry. All my ghosts from my past are here in rampant abundance and I can’t tell if they are here to help guide me or here to take me home. I hate being selfish and thinking that I need another human to make me feel whole. I can’t explain it but ever since I woke up on the day my son was born my Grandmother has been right here with me. I see here in everything I do. My heart hurts because I can here the click of her teeth and the way she used to feel me love. I find myself closing my eyes a lot in the hopes that I can finally reach her and get a hug.
There are no words to explain what is happening with my heart. In one way it feels so full because my son is here but it also feels empty because my Grandma is not. All I ever wanted was to feel loved inclusively for all my faults. I am not a good person. I am only human. I try so hard to do what I think is right only to be kicked down and spat on because somebody doesn’t understand me. I guess I am used to standing on the outside looking in like ghost from Christmas past. Maybe if I dream hard enough will you come to visit like I should have before you left. I suppose what I am feeling is just the reflection of my younger self that is now just catching up to me. I don’t know how to release the chains that weigh me down that were put there by another’s opinion of me. My biggest fear in this life is never being worthy of my Dad’s love. The pain that resides in the hole that he left in my heart is a reminder just how worthless that I am. Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe I did something to somebody and now I am paying the price. Just like in the words echoed to me by my Grandfather right before Alzheimer’s took him, “How can you love somebody like me?”