I’m alive. I’m living in a world of neutrals and shades of beige. I am neither happy nor sad. I am not sexual nor do I pine for what’s lost. I exist. I live. I breathe. I wake up and slog my way through the minutiae of my daily life. I try to stay away long enough to go to bed at a normal time and then I fall exhausted into a mindless sleep where nothing is processed or dreamed about, until my bladder wakes me up and repeat the cycle again.
I’ve traveled. I’ve encountered new opportunities. I’ve met new people and let go of those whom I was required to for my own peace of mind. Yet, nothing seems to actually matter. I am strangely vacant. Lost loves that never were, lost friends who clearly weren’t, all have settled into the weight of the fabric which creates my life and has weighted me down with the knowledge that things are not as they appear. Life is not as it seems.
I trust my mothers love.Though I fear it will evaporate under the weight of issues. That I will become my mothers daughter and abandon my children emotionally, simply because she did; even though I know I won’t. But still…that creeping fear is always there. Just like my one of abandonment. Because I have been.