One Hundred Ninety Four

My mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, and since then I’ve been making small hints at it here and trying to continue my life as if it is even anything. It’s harder now, it’s much harder being here with my father and feeling his grief and knowing that it is paramount to anything I could ever feel.

Tonight I was watching the Oscars with him, and Bette Midler started singing Wind Beneath my Wings, and I held it together for most of the song, but at one point I just broke down crying and realised that… she’s gone, and I miss her terribly. Knowing that horrifying, gnawing feeling in my gut and realising that my father’s feelings on the matter are much more destructive, as she was the love of his life, I wonder what I should do about this.

At what point do I give myself up to the idea that staying here might not be what’s right for me, but it might be what’s right for him. I should talk to him about it, but I’m afraid.

I’m also dizzy and my head hurts, so I’m going to take some ibuprofen as soon as I can get up and get a drink and then try to figure out what the hell I’m doing.

Late night thoughts.

Listening to the Adore album by the Smashing Pumpkins made me think about all the notions I had as a teenager about destiny, love, and what was meant to be.

I think I might have been more than just a romantic, I was an idiot to think that stumbling on a boy I used to emote throwing snowballs at was somehow a sign from the universe that we were in any way meant to be. It’s dumb, and I can’t believe how often I’d tell those lies to myself.

If it takes someone six plus years of your devotion while they fuck around to realise they love you, there’s a good chance they don’t… or if they did, they have for a while and kept you hanging anyway.

Having someone who is terrified, but says he’d rather leap than possibly miss the chance to be with me? That’s better than any romanticised notion of destiny to justify pining after someone for years. If he can’t easily say he loves you, or is in love with you yet, but is still wanting to be with you because he does care, does love even if it’s not full-on in love? That’s a man I’m willing to give my heart to, even if it gets broken, because I matter to him.

To all the boys mad at me for whatever reason? Now is my turn to be selfish. What I’m going through trumps yours. I’m sorry, fuck you… if your feelings matter more than me needing my friends right now? If your hurt feelings mean that much…? You didn’t care to begin with.

Rant over. Drea has a boyfriend and he’s wonderful. Ending on a positive note.

Sick as a dog.

I think because of how much I’ve been crying I’ve found a point when I am ridiculously sick. The back of my throat hurts so incredibly bad I’m not really sure what to do with it. I know I still need to make a difficult (always difficult, but always necessary) call later, but I’m trying to put it off for just a bit so that I don’t end up messing things up. I feel kind of like garbage and all I want to do is curl up into a ball and ignore absolutely everything, but that’s not really what is allowed right now, you know? Life’s weird… so’s death.

Love and Emotion.

You talk about things like they matter; you speak of love and companionship like you could ever fathom the loss of something that meant everything to you. You like to think you’ve got it all figured out, that one true love and how it should be, and how it’s always magic and perfect and you’re never angry and everything will always be smiles.

And then you watch someone lose the light of their life, you watch a man speak of a woman as if he didn’t just lose her, but lost his world. You hear him talk of her like she was an angel even though you know they often wanted to tear their own hair out in the company of one another. You understand then that all the love you have ever begun to feel in your life will never compare to what they had in their years together.

It gives you hope for an idea of love where someone can frustrate you, make you smile, drive you crazy, and still be the only thing that matters at the end of the day. You can go from screaming at each other, to sliding a hand across the space between to just touch the hand of someone you love and know that they love you too regardless of what happened a few hours, minutes, SECONDS previous to that.

I’ve seen the face of true love, and I’ve seen it broken… and it will never recover, there is a rift that will never be filled, but I will bridge it, I will hold him together because he needs me to.

So please, come at me again about what true love is so I can quash you.