Monday, January 29, 2007

I need an escape...


The streets are all slanted, and my back is against the wall. Concrete and cold, the frigidness of the cement drapes the spine of my body. Treed, tried, trapped…. I run to this place for solitude, but the seclusion pries open my mind and the thoughts I conceal inside are let loose.

I need the escape, but I fear the effect. I cry and cry and cry some more… partly wishing the truth will drown in the tears.


But they don't.

They never do.


I think I've reached the threshold of awareness… my mother is dying in front of my eyes, and there's nothing I can do to help her. Nothing! But the sense of helplessness surpasses any other. I'm on stage in front of an audience of critics, naked and vulnerable. Where once I was able to walk a tightrope blindfolded, my balance seems to be eluded even when I'm on all fours.

Consider the universal dream of ensuing trouble… you try to scream and nothing comes out… that's what it feels like for me… day after day. Notwithstanding, of course, I couldn't scream even if I was able to. I've been labeled the "Strong one..". The level headed-got her act straight-can conquer the world- one. I must remain resilient at all times. If I crumble, so does everyone around me. My mother especially. She looks at me and reads my eyes. If I'm "ok", then things must be "okay".


Things must be okay, right?

Some days they are. Some days I swear things will be "okay" and maybe she will make this miraculous turnaround and beat this shit fuck of a devil. I mean, come on… she just ate an entire piece of bread! The whole thing… didn't even throw it up. That's a sign isn't it? But no sooner does she digest it, does someone come to me and ask if I've considered burying her 6ft or 3ft underground.

Ever run around your pool when you were younger? Make that whirlpool effect and just let yourself float in the current of the flow? Sometimes I'm floating… just laying back , staring at the sky, letting the current take me wherever it desires. A nice free-form lack-of-control-feeling.

But most of the time I'm trying to fight the whirlpool. I'm running against it , forcing with all my might to set in motion a different course. But the outcome is always the same. I'm forced to oblige the current and get taken off in the tide. This time – starring up at the sky not by choice- but because as strong as I may appear… I'm really not stronger than the inevitable.

It's going to happen. She will die. She won't be around to see me get married, won't see my grandchildren, won't be there to baby-sit and help me raise my children. She won't be there to tell me it will be okay on those days when shit just seems to go all wrong. She wont be there in the morning telling me to drive safe and call her when i get to work.

And as much as those are all self-absorbed reasons to touch upon, shit, it's the truth.

But the crazy fucked up part of being me… ( one part, of many, at least) if you are, or know any Libra's… you know we see both sides of everything. We weigh things, balance things, get caught in the stream of the in-between….


My egotistical side wants my mother there with me, for me, until I'm ready for her to leave. I'm not ready yet. Then again, will I ever be?

But there's a part of me… and this is the part that seems to be invading the self-absorbed part more and more as the days go on…

That maybe it's better that my mom move on. She shouldn't have to suffer, she shouldn't have to whither away to nothing, live her days in pain and agony, just to stay alive. Her quality of life is in rapid egression… it's unfair that she has to endure such torture day after day.


But what if… what if that miraculous turnaround happens? But then again, what if it doesn't?


Until either of the two become known- I'll maintain that "strong-one" persona and keep my head propped steadily on my shoulders regardless of which way I'm being pulled. And on the days where I think i can't hold up the fa├žade any longer… I'll retreat to the place I go to get away.


Where the streets are all slanted, and my back is against the wall.

Concrete and cold, the frigidness of the cement drapes the spine of my body. Treed, tried, trapped…. I run to this place for solitude, but the seclusion pries open my mind and the thoughts I conceal inside are let loose.


I need the escape, but I fear the effect. I cry and cry and cry some more… partly wishing the truth will drown in the tears.



But they don't.

They never do.

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