October 11/12: an ode to my grief
There’s a loneliness in my mother that I’ve tried to fill since I was a child. She never believed that I would. If only my desperate attempts could have manifested itself into a physical being; To close the hole in her heart. Instead the fear of loneliness crept its way in. She never stood a chance.
When I think of my mother I sometimes imagine killing her, or at least finishing the fight. I had never punched someone in the face before. It felt good. How dare she? Those three words are all I can think of; Playing on an infinite loop.
Do you ever feel like you’re forever falling? Cursed from ever hitting the ground. To an outsider you’d look like you were suspended in mid-air. None the wiser to the adrenaline racing through your body. The heavy ache sinking your heart The rigidity of your limbs in anticipation of...
Of what? An end? One that never comes? Oh, surely it will come one day. A decision. A verdict.
It feels like I’m grieving much more than my mother, but I’m not sure what.
My mother and I share a common trait: Loneliness, And a fear of it. My mother didn’t put it there. He did... Or was I born with it - a murmur. Did my mother betray me? If so, when? Why wasn’t I notified? Why doesn’t she believe me? If I could figure out exactly what would make my mother love me again I would do it. Why do I feel so alone without her? I am without her. Without. Except she’s right there. The hole in my heart with its mysterious origins has been stretched. Splitting and cracked like a worn out rubber band that has lost all elasticity.
Its resilience.
