Today was a hard day. I had been putting off cleaning my room for a while, and I finally got around to it today. It led to the reopening of a dusty converse box I had once filled with letters, cards, pictures, and ticket stubs. I’m not sentimental, but I must have figured that I would have use for them one day.
Or maybe I thought I’d be reduced to only these things, pictorial or physical evidence of things I’d once experienced. That’s what my self is consistent of. Anyway, I was looking through everything… Actually, let me preface this by saying that I had a cry in the sauna by the swimming pool. It’s my first real cry in months. And it felt weird to feel something, anything again. I started thinking about all of the mistakes that I’d made. A lot of those mistakes were paid for by not just me, but the people I love. It’s unfortunate that I allowed myself to get to a point where my parents could tell me I was killing them. Not even unfortunate. Just stupid.
I was looking through things, and I got a very specific feeling anytime I saw something I could pinpoint to 2010 or earlier. Good me. And anything after was bad me. And holding things owned by the young, but wiser self made me feel so inadequate, and so disappointing in measure. I had the world in my hands once. So did the everyone else. Most people let go, I just wonder if its too late for me to get it back.
So even if I’m doing well in school, or I’m getting great work opportunities, it’s all just me making for having made my parents run out in the street to find me. It’s making up for them waking up their child’s empty bed. It’s me making up for not living up to the card my mom gave me when I was 16 — the one saying “I am so glad to be your mother and your friend.”
I am glad too. But for a few years, I treated you like you were nothing.