..you go and leave the house.
I’m sorry I’m here writing about my mom again. Sometimes I worry that I talk about her too much and people are annoyed with it. Although no one’s showed me any signs of annoyance, I still worry.
Anyway, today I finally got my lazy ass out of bed and this apartment and I did productive things. I’ve been putting it off for a week or so now because I just don’t have the energy nor want. Well, today I had to go get my registration renewed and it takes about 10-15 minutes to get to the DMV. The whole way there I listened to “Hurt” by Christina Aguilera over and over. This is nothing new. I really like this song and it came out at the same time my mom died. What a coincedence. It’s a beautiful song and when I heard it, it was like the thoughts in my head were magically turned into a song. So I listen to this song a lot. In a way it comforts me and reminds me to really think about everything that my mother was…every detail. That crazy curly, poofy hair that should have been left in the 80’s. Her two slightly crooked front teeth that I can picture so clearly because she was always laughing. Her big ole hips and thighs that I made fun of because I know that I’ve been cursed with those genes. Her crazy sense of style that seemed to me like a mix of native indian and hippy with a splash of 80’s. She was an oddball, but it’s the reason that I loved her so much. She’s the reason I’m the smart ass that I am today, and the reason that I can find humor in anything….and I mean anything. She’s probably mad at some of the things I told people and said at her funeral.
But I’ve digressed a bit. These two weeks have flown by and of course I’ve been really sad, but for the most part, I’ve been alright. I keep telling myself that these things happen and I’m just so lucky that it happened when I was 21 and not 10. Of course I still needed her, but not nearly as much as I would have if I were younger. It sucks, but I’ve been forced to grow up and in such a short time. And I think this is why I’m scared. I’m scared as hell to grow up and be an adult. What if I don’t do it right? Or what if I do it the way I think is right, and by the time I’m 40, I’ve realized how bad I’ve fucked it up. Well, I’ve been putting that all aside…not thinking about it. And I haven’t had to because when I stay at home, I get to do nothing. I play around online, become queen myspace whore. Occasionally I’ll go to Jared’s apartment, where really…not much happens but just being with him…being with someone I can talk to openly with about ANYTHING, I’m at peace. I’m happy. I don’t have to think of mom. I don’t WANT to think of mom. I’m angry. I’m not angry at her. I’m angry that this has happened to me and I have NO control at all over any of it. I’m angry that it seems as though my life has been full of more downs than ups. I’m angry that if there is a God, I feel as though I’m totally being punished for the things I’ve done in the past. And because of that, I’m angry that I am being punished by someone who is supposed to love me no matter what. And because I don’t believe in God, I’m angry that maybe if he is real, I’m being a really bad person. Or if He is real, I’m angry that I’m being so stubborn as to not let Him into my life. I’m angry that it’s taken something like this to want to believe in Him. I’m ashamed.
But again I’ve digressed. Today when I was on the road to the DMV, I broke down. I miss her. I really, really miss her. She is the guarantor of my car so that brought up memories of us getting this car. Then I had to show my proof of insurance and I’m insured under her. I went pay my car loan and like I said, she is the gaurantor. I get home and I have a message from a friend on myspace who just found out about my mom. Today it’s just being PUSHED into my face and I’m having to FACE it. I went to her apartment, because I thought she had a suitcase I could borrow for the trip to Houston. The hardest thing so far is having to look at her clothes that she’ll never ever wear again. I looked at her jewelry that’s really cute but maybe a little over the top for me. I just really fucking miss her and I’m pissed that I’ll never be able to see her again. I’m just so mad and so angry about this whole STUPID FUCKED UP situation and how I have absolutely NO control over any of it.
And you know, I’m tired of having to talk about it with peopel that I barely know that ask. If I wanted to talk about it or tell you how I felt, I would. I really would. It’s just like when you break up with a boyfriend and someone decides that you’re dying to know that they saw him with another girl last week. Oh thanks, fuckhead, but I really would rather not thing about it sometimes. When I talk about my mom, it’s because I want to and I’m ready to talk about it. When you bring it up out of the blue, you’re forcing me to think about it and sometimes I just don’t want to.
Ok, that is all.