Those mornings she can feel the chill air nipping at her cheeks while coiled under the blankets, with no real intent to get up.
It’s in these moments that she thinks the clearest, ignoring everything besides her steady breathing and watches the pictures her mind paints as she thinks through her problems.
Her mind tells the stories of her possible decisions and their possible outcomes, each as intriguing as the one before.
She speeds through her problems, quickly finding her own answer. She’s never been keen on taking more than a few hours to at least vaguely decide what she will do.
Rushing things seems to be her strong point. It has never been that she hasn’t thought the problems through, more so that her mind cannot stand to go any slower than the fastest it can.
As she skips from problem to problem she smiles and laughs, frowns and sheds anger tears. She handles her life.
It’s these mornings and these moments where her life takes flight, despite her apparent lack of action now. Looking back at events and trying to find their true meaning defines her.
Many, including herself, consider this extreme over-thinking. It’s her Achilles heel, her acute attention to details and over analysis of them. But it is also what defines her, and creates who she has been and determines who she will become.
With each detail, her own analysis which creates a path towards an idea, some that lead to action and some the lack there of.
__________________________
I wonder if anyone else sees the real motive behind her lying eyes that truly makes her cry. That’s all I have been pondering for the last half an hour.
The tears running down the defendant’s cheeks seemed to be real and genuine to all that sat behind her in support on the hard wooden benches.
Except to me. One can only look into a set of eyes so many times longing for truth, before she finally comes to realize she will never find it there.
As her daughter I looked to her for guidance and love, only to realize all too soon that I was the provider of advice and compassion in this relationship.
Now, almost twelve years later, few things have changed. The only main difference now being that my mother will finally have to wreak the consequences of her actions for the past eighteen years. A day that I have been waiting for for too many years, which is despicable.
Too many wonder how anyone can be truly happy that their mother is being sent away, with no real way of coming back. And too many have shunned me for choosing realistic answers and sides over how what others expect a daughter to do.
At forty five, learning how to find your own answers and creating yourself should be old hat. No one should be creating you besides yourself at any point in your life, but by now it should be ingrained within you to fight.
So my question is, what will finally push her to take control of her own life? For too long I have been a dictating force and voice of reason that pushed her in the most right direction I knew. And at the same time the driving force that made her do the exact opposite of logical, because I had been the one to suggest it.
I believe this is the final push she needs. Complete isolation from anyone that is willing to help her. This is her defining moment, whether or not anyone is willing to admit it.
I have faith in her that she will find herself and be able to take control finally instead of always needing someone to control it for her, but she needs to be pushed to her extremes. Forced to reckon with her past, and mold herself a better future.
__________________________
When someone tells you to go, run.
To drive, go fast.
To love, fall hard.
To kiss, use passion.
To learn, teach.
To write, make Stephen King jealous
Too give up, fight harder.
Its ok to cry, laugh.
When someone tells you to do something, do it better.
__________________________
She really didn’t know what was waiting for her on the other side of the door.
She knew who she wanted it to be, but the likelihood of that was in the tenths or a percent.
The one who made her feel swept off her feet, yet so hopeless and insignificant at the same time.
The one who, for a reason she couldn’t think of, had her heart.
Maybe that statement is too bold, but it seems that as of late, things are quite out of the norm.
She hadn’t yet reached the bottom of the stairs when she checked her phone for the time.
11:11. Make a wish.
We all know what she wished for.
As she grasped for the handle, she vaguely contemplated looking out the peep hole, but really saw no reason too.
She got what she wished for.
He was on the other end of the barrel, pointed at her face. Already cocked and ready to blow, all he did was pull the trigger.
At least this love ended painlessly.
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