I sit up awake in my bed. Someone who doesn't know might see this as a child excited about Christmas. But this is not holiday inspired sleeplessness, this is in fact depressing sleeplessness. While I was trying to fall asleep I came to a realization. I hate everything about my so-called home. My family: My mother who has played favorites ever since I was born out of wed lock. My sister: The perfect child who wasn't expelled and lives such a great life. On the outside my mother tries to make it seem like, "Yes, a single working mother of two can make it work!" Like some terrible commercial. When in fact, it doesn't work. AT ALL! Our family is like a sinking ship. My mother is still trying to believe that everything is fine, that our family is normal, or within the worlds standards of a "weird" family as everyone has a weird family. Well, our family isn't like that. We are dysfunktional beyond belief. We fight all the time. We do not resolve conflicts, we just get quiet for a while and move on like nothing has happened. And that brings me to why I hate this place. This structure that I have called a home is not in fact my home. These four walls with there disgusting paint job and cracks , have in fact held me captive.
I hope to never return to this place again. The funny thing is, is that anyone who knows me will tell you I hate the cold. I LOATHE it with every fiber of my being. But I would rather be wandering the streets of Chicago a naked whore. Then be here in this so-called home. This place of opression, depression, and tears. And perhaps the worst part about this home is that there is no love. I am not sure that love ever actually existed. And people can say that the cars, the education, are all signs of love. But with these material things comes an unimaginable guilt trip, and if love had inspired all of these things, the person who gave them to me wouldn't guilt me, they would be happy that I am happy. And say three words that I have longed to hear for far too long. I love you. The parental love, the love that say that I will die for you. The worst part about that is, I can't remember the last time anyone has said that to me, and even worse yet, I don't think they ever will. And while this might sound pity party-ish, its true. But what I want you to see, when you see me, is not an unloved person. I want you to see someone filled with love. Love that needs to be given to others. Because no one should have to live in a place where they don't feel love.
This is a really sad blog post, sorry. Dallas gets me down. I'll write a happier one when I am back in Chi!
This song embodies what I feel when I am home. Everything about it says what I want from my mother.
