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Entry thirty-seven: Sublime (part 1 of 5) |
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When was the last time you were free? Really, truly free? The last time you broke free of your parents' oppression; the last time you went off into the night on your bike and never looked back- when was that last time? I realized the other night, staring up at the stars from my spot on the park bench, that alone I am truly free. I didn't need anyone, no help or advice- I didn't need anything to be free. I just need me. I was supposed to die that night.
I used to want to be with everyone, wish to be like everyone else, wish to be NORMAL- but what is normal? Was I supposed to turn from the ridiculous to the sublime in a snap? HAH. I'm not a light switch, I can't turn from one to another because someone WANTS me to. It's my decision. Not like I want to now, no, I used to want that. But something about me made the rest of them push me away. I wanted to know what it was that I could change about myself so that I could be accepted by the world- but why did I need someone to approve me before I could approve myself? I wondered that summer, for once. Why, oh why, am I seen as such a freak? Why am I an outcast? And WHY do I enjoy being so? I spent trillions of seconds thinking about that. The sun shone brightly overhead, dimming slowly and gave way to the night. It rained that night- so I went for a walk in the rain. I walked, and thought listening to the soft pit-patters of the summer rain hit the grass, roll onto the concrete and collect themselves in the sewers below. I walked barefoot, not really caring if my clothes got wet, or if mother would freak out when I got home- IF I got home. It was one of those days. And, you know, I came to the conclusion finally, that night. I swung upside-down from my favourite sycamore tree, gazing endearingly at the moist plot of ground below me that would catch me in its clutches if I fell, feeling the individual ridges of the bark cling to the skin on my thighs, listening to the bird song of happiness that the bowling-ball robin chirped above, thinking. Summer is my time of loneliness, my time to feel free, the only time when school didn't interrupt what life I had left in me. So I hung there, humming to the pattern of the rain thinking about who I was. I couldn't completely figure it out, but I had a good grasp on who I was. Me. Just. Me. Not the sky, or earth, or that snotty b***h at school, or the guy popping pills in the restaurant bathroom, or a big corporate executive that feels like they're on top of the world, I'm just me. I figured it out that summer, sitting in the rain. Err, more like hanging in the rain. So I hopped off the branch, bid good night to my tree, my bird, my rain, and left for home.
I wasn't anticipating the reaction my mother had on her face. Usually, it was the shock, the yelling of where I was, then hugging me, tight in the warm, loving embrace that a mother had when she said how worried she was of me. But not this time. It's barely the break of dawn, and the sun's rays are refracted in the rain to give off auras of red, pink, and purple in the eastern sky when I walk in the door. She was just sitting there, watching the morning news. I figured you'd go tromping about in the rain, she mumbled. It's your thing. My face twitched into an odd expression. What, no shock? No spiel? No hug? She shrugged, no expression on her face. None. I wasn't anticipating that. Did she finally get used to my going out on a whim? ...Or did she just not care anymore? Do you care, mom? That I go out at night? She sat, silent, staring at the flickering television screen. I care, she said after a few minutes of me standing there, dripping on the carpet. You're a teenager, she giggled, looking up at me. You do what you want, whether or not it has my consent. That memory haunts me still. Because it's the last memory I have of my mom smiling.
That summer, my mom up and left. Just out of the blue, leaving me and the cat alone in our single-story, two-bedroom, one bath house. Right before school started. I remember waking up one morning, about a week before school was supposed to start again. We had planned to go school shopping that day. I tumbled my way to the kitchen, wondering why I wasn't smelling the usual burnt popcorn she used to make every morning as a snack for the birds. Then I realized. It's what dad did, too. She left me, left me and the cat alone on our own. And I didn't have anywhere to turn to. Her car was gone, along with all her clothes, bringing what possible memories we could have made with her. The only thing I have left of her is that final smile she gave me, and a dusty room where the dust bunnies sleep. I didn't go anywhere 'till school started. I just sat there in my room, listening to the sounds of summer fade away. My cat kept me company, often reminding me when it was time for food, or for sleep, or when to turn off the television to go to bed. I look, still, for one more memory I could have of my mom- a picture, a recording, a note, a video. But nothing. Everything was gone. Then when the stars turned to dust in the sky, summer turned to fall. And as much as I didn't like it-
I went to school that fall.
XxFragmented_RealityxX · Wed Apr 29, 2009 @ 09:58pm · 0 Comments |
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