I sometimes wonder about my dad. What does he do now? Does he think about us? Does he ever tell anyone about us? Does he tell people he has children or not? When other people talk of their children, does he mention us?
Does he feel sad? What does he feel when he sends us cards on our birthdays? What emotion is associated with them? Does he ever feel like contacting us? Why did he do all the shit he did? Does he still drink? Is he satisfied? Is he sick? I heard he was sick.
I also sometimes wonder whether I really want an answer? Maybe I’ll find the answers someday when I really absolutely need to know, I don’t know.
Yes, that is pretty much what this post is going to be about. Love, storms and finals. In reverse order though.
Okay so first up is finals. I have finals starting this week carrying over to next week. I have four courses including psychology, Shakesqueer, literature, and science. For science I had a group project and an exam. The project is done, had to make a poster and write an article. Have an exam on the 10th of May. For Literature, psychology and Shakesqueer I have papers which are all due on 4th/5th of May! I have three submissions on the same day which means that I’m screwed! (pls send help!)
So like a few days back, we suddenly had a very bad dust storm! It was so random an sudden! I was sitting in the pantry with a couple of my friends and we quickly ran to bring the clothes stands inside from the balcony and all of that! It took a while to clear but it was okay-ish. Then today again, really randomly, there was a mini storm. The winds were so intense that you couldn’t even stand without being pushed in the direction of the wind! Dust and everything was flying all over and a door in my dorm broke! Glass shattered everywhere and people posted pictures saying stuff like “finals break everyone!” It was quite a mess!
And now the most important (sort of, I guess) one is the love bit. Okay so I think I’m in love with this girl and I don’t even know what love is or whatever but it feels so good to be around her. She is wonderful and soft but also not soft and sad and she is artsy af and I just. I don’t know. Cliche as it might be, love songs are fucking making sense to me and they shouldn’t! I hate it! Probably cuz I know it can never be. It’s so strange cuz I love the feeling but I also hate it. Doubleness is such a strange thing. Everything is and is not or is both and neither and I don’t even know. It’s a strange feeling, it’s not butterflies. It’s more like I don’t need coffee to get through the day anymore.
nothings feels real sometimes. i mean i don’t know i feel like an outsider looking into my own life. i don’t really understand it much. my therapist is leaving, i have two more sessions left with her. i don’t really know how i feel about that. one of my best friends at college is leaving too. i’m happy for her and i’m very proud of her.
i don’t know how i feel about people leaving.
my last therapy session was quite strange. i spent the first half talking mostly about the girl i love and wasting time. then i started talking about death and dying. particularly me dying. and somehow we started talking about priorities and how i feel like i’m not a priority. i was giving an example and telling my therapist that if for example, two of my friends call me at the same time, i’ll chose to answer one and that will immediately show my priority. i said this without thinking too much but like then my therapist responded by saying “and your mother is always busy” and this hit me like a tonne of bricks and i just said okay and i left.
i had an okay-ish day today. i didn’t panic much. i am proud of myself. i painted. i miss her.
I’m in her bed. Just lying there curled up next to her. Not talking much. She’s holding me and I feel safe. It feels like home.
I’ve always had trouble with the concept of home. Never really felt like I completely belonged anywhere. Always felt like I was looking for somewhere, someone to be home to me. Nothing feels more like home than her right now.
You know those nights when you think that you won’t make it to tomorrow? and then she just holds you and just sits with you. doesn’t try to tell you that it’ll get better or don’t cry. she just lets you cry and be. And she lets you curl up in her bed and just lie there and be panicky and she sees you shaking and asks if it would be okay for her to hold your hand and you don’t know what to say. yes hold my hand. you make me feel safe. you’re one of the very few people who make me feel safe. how or why i do not know because i haven’t known you for that long but i love you. if i know what love is, that is.
Again, i don’t usually write like this. i usually write with good punctuation and proper capital letters and all that stuff. but lately i have just been writing whatever i’m thinking and in whatever way i’m thinking. if this is what comes out when i sit down to write then this is what i’m going to post. this post was written so furiously and i don’t know i guess i just had to get it all out and i didn’t want to wait to put capital letters properly and all that.
Weren’t you supposed to make things better?
All sunshiny and warm. Not like the glaring sun burning my skin but like happy sunshine.
Weren’t you supposed to make the days better? You know the kind of days that go by in a haze and you don’t exactly remember what happened or what you did but you just remember that they were happy? Or did I just make that up in my head?
Weren’t you supposed to drive the depression and anxiety to hidden corners of the night and full the days with ice cream and friends. Weren’t you supposed to make me feel not lonely? So why is it that even though you’re here, the depression still creeps in in the middle of the day and I still feel alone and summer doesn’t feel like summer.
Sometimes I feel like I made it all up. I wanted it so badly that I made myself believe that I had it.
The summer walks with my friends and the sneaking around and eating ice cream with my sister. The water fights when we were younger and the sweaty bus rides filled with chatter. I don’t even know if all this really happened. Did it? Can you make it all better now? You’re supposed to make it all better now, it’s not cold anymore.
There won’t be an Easter egg this time
I won’t wake up in the morning and find candy waiting for me.
You aren’t here this time.
I thought I’d be used to it by now. After all, you weren’t here last year either.
But somehow I still expect things to be normal again.
I sometimes want to write you an email telling you all about my life.
But then I realize that I won’t receive a reply with all your latest travel adventures and promises to meet soon.
I wish I had met you, you kept asking.
Thank you. For everything. Thank you for taking care of ma.
You are missed everyday but a little more on Easter.
I never knew what Easter was, I only knew to look forward to hearing from you.
This is about a very special person I used to know who was killed in a terrorist attack a couple of years ago. She was a wonderful lady and I wish she was here today. Please have a look at this website to know more – http://www.marthafarrellfoundation.org/
Unrelated note – I’m sorry I just write short strange sentences these days. My thoughts all feel very disjointed and I write how I feel.
My sister and I slept in my mom’s room that night.
We left the dining room light on.
The phone rang sometime around half past 2
And we knew.
In hushed voices my mom told me take care of my sister
(like that needed to be said)
and she went to wake dida up.
Sometimes I feel like I wasn’t me in those few days.
Well I was me but it was strange, more mechanical.
When his body was brought home for the last rites
I was told to stay in the kids’ room with my sister and cousin
The room door opened, my mother had come to get something.
13 year old me, very curious; peeked outside.
Heard someone wailing.
I was wearing black shorts and an off white top that day.
I insisted I wanted to go for the cremation.
Sorry this is such a disjointed piece. I was pretty much just thinking and typing and I usually don’t like these kinds of things cuz I don’t want to edit my thinking. I don’t know if that makes sense but yeah. Also, “All I Could Do” is the tittle of a song by Kimya Dawson and I was listening to it while writing and I think it fits perfectly!