A few things on my mind today. You know, I thought I was over caring what people thought of me. I guess we never really get over that, not in this world, regardless of what we tell ourselves. I hung out with a few friends last night. And I shared some family drama that I'm starring in this week. Immediately after telling my sob story with a straight face, I cringed at the sympathy spilling from their visages.

My mother is detached from reality. She is lost in her depression, and sporatically rises from her sullen-gray state to attack me with dark-colored words. Her intent is always to hurt me or hold something over my head, some sort of condition. For example, she has been kind enough to let me stay at her house while I looked for an apartment. But last night, the ugly face of her anger and misery reminded me that her generosity and love are contingent. On what, I do not know. That changes. But with her, it is all contingent.

So when I explain that to a friend, why do I feel ashamed? As if her behavior is somehow a reflection on me, as if I am at fault because I don't know how to handle it. I want to cry, just break down and sob, but my childish hurt is battling my adult apathy and I am left devoid.

I was wishing last night that she would do something horrible. Kill my cat or burn my journal, just anything horrible, so that I would have a valid reason in the eyes of the world to never see her again. A good reason that people would understand, and I wouldn't end up as the bad guy. I find I do that with friends, as well. I'd rather someone fuck up on me than have to tell them that I just don't want them in my life.

To me, that just seems easier than having to explain myself away, "no, you don't understand, it's nothing you did, it's just YOU, I don't like YOU and I don't have room for YOU in my life. I don't want to make the time." How do you tell that to someone? Where is the line that separates honesty from cruelty? That's just not somewhere I want to dance.

So I got home late, 2 days before moving. A lot of my things were thrown in a pile, some things overturned in anger or haste, I don't know the difference anymore. This morning we didn't exchange a word. I don't feel sad. Just disappointed. Things could have been different, they could have been better. But I can't change someone else. What I can do, is remove a person from my life like I would remove an arrow from my flesh; carefully, slowly, so as not to rip any more skin than necessary, or spill any more blood than needs to be spilled.

I want all of the arrows out of my body.

-Barbarella

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