silentalltheseyears
I suppose that taking time out to just look at what you're doing might be a good idea. But I don't have time to take time out, then I won't get done and I won't get this scholarship and I won't get to college and then I'm stuck here for the rest of my life, just like everyone else who goes to school here. I don't want to be like them. I suppose I could, I suppose I could get by with anything, but I don't want to. I want to make something of myself.
I'm caught in this place, not connecting to anyone. I hover on the edges, they all think they know me, but they don't have the real connection that I so desperately need. I'm floating away all the time, like a hot air balloon with no connection to land. I don't know how to get back, and they don't know how to reach me.
every time she goes away, she doesn't realize how much she's missed. christmastime is worst - he wants her so badly to have a good christmas experience at home, to show her what she's missing, but she believes that seeing other people having fun family christmases will make her lack of family that much more pronounced. she doesn't realize that the reason she leaves is because of how much her impromptu family loves - and therefore misses - her.
Hmmmmm...she thinks, she sits with her pencil poised above her sketchbook and the newspaper at hand and the bright morning sun rising over the horizon...and still there's nothing. she could almost cry. she hates being blocked, she wants her muse to come back...the drawings sometimes flow like water, other times they're thicker than molasses.
she screams loudly, but it's not loud enough. finally someone finds the megaphone and bellows, in a surprisingly rich tenor voice, "It's time for everyone to settle down and find their seats!" she stops and stares. it's someone she's seen before, many times, but never thought of. but that voice - she could melt.
she doesn't want to be a trophy wife. that's all she knows at this point. she doesn't know what she wants to be, what she wants to do with her life, but still, so many girls in her position only come out as trophy wives. and she wants so much more than that, can be so much more than that. she is a person all her own. and no one telling her that she could have the easy-street life is going to change that.
sticks and stones may break my bones. every little kid chants it on the playground. words will never hurt me. but oh crap, they hurt so bad when they're sharp little barbs from the girl you thought was your best friend. the sticks would hurt less then. when it's her, when it's him, that most important person, the sticks would be better. sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will break my soul.
She runs her fingers through her hair and once again regrets that very first cigarette. Now every day she smells of smoke, now every day she's with him and them just to keep getting the cigarettes, she can't see her sister anymore because she'll make her sick - it's every day she regrets that first cigarette.
We're all expecting something. Today I want this, tomorrow I'll need that. We're all expecting the world to keep going, for our plans to be fulfilled, for there to be a tomorrow. But what if there's not? What if all our plans are in vain and tomorrow there's nothing, nothing to expect, just nothing. What if, I guess, what if it's there but we're not?
They're such a necessary evil...I would much prefer not to do them most days. But then, when I am away from home and don't have the chores that structure my home time, I feel lost and lethargic, and it is a relief to get back to responsibility.
that's all chores are really - responsibility of a smaller sort. It's nice to have them sometimes, when you want to remember that you aren't just a bum.
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