I just finished the last post and now I’m all teary eyed.
I’m having a vulnerable exposed moment here so bear with me.
I can talk about how much I want to be a writer. About how much I want to be heard and seen and respected. About how I want to leave something behind for my child and take care of my family.
But I know, it’s much deeper than that. In the middle of that list I wrote “I’d bring my father back from the dead.”
Yes, I want to be an accomplished writer because I’ve dreamed it since I was seven. Yes, I’ve always thought words on a page would be my greatest gift to the world.
But, and I admit this with the sullen face of a young child, I want to succeed so I can make people stay. OH HELL, NOW I’M CRYING.
But this is apart of the journey, isn’t it? The truth.
I want people to want to stay. I want to raise the dead. I want people to see beyond my walls and mean exterior. My sarcastic defenses and my snarky remarks. I want people to see the girl. The one that’s been hoping someone, anyone will care unconditionally. And I want to make those people live forever.
I want what I cannot have.
But I want it, nonetheless.
I’m just a messed up girl who has some issues. Okay, a lot of issues. And I’ve watched myself morph into this “I don’t give a f” attitude or the “I care too much” attitude. Both have done me no good at all. Because at the end of the day, I’m still without that feeling. Freud would say it’s because I didn’t get something in stage one or two. Some people would say, “everyone has a hard life, get over it.”
And both are probably right.
I don’t know what it is that I need. I just know that I’m always striving for the unknown light. I want to rewind the clock and feel important and heard from day one. If no one could listen then…maybe in writing and being recognized…maybe I’ll be important and heard now? Who knows. Maybe I’ll never really get that but my journey will give my son that feeling I never really knew but in those rare moments.
I’m just a sad girl. A girl who writes because it makes me feel. Just feel. My son and the words. The two things that keep me alive. May they know I love them unconditionally and I hope they feel the same.