I sort of started a fight with my mom tonight. She's been picking at me for weeks, and I blew up. I don't know if I feel badly about it. On the one hand, she deserved it and every nasty thing I said. On the other, even if everything I said was dead on right, I know it wasn't right that I blew up at her. Normal people can explode from time to time; but I can't. I'm not looking for pity; I really can't allow myself to do that. Things get worse if I do. It's my job to clean things up; to build bridges. Getting angry doesn't fix anything for anyone. Telling a crazy woman that she's crazy is the best way to get a broken jaw, not a healed psyche.
I've been working on asserting my independence. Not only have I sucked at it. I've also managed to alienate nearly everyone, become hypersensitive about it, and have started to hate myself all the more. In the end that's my fault, and I can't blame anybody else for it.
I wish I could get away for a while. I keep trying to think about Europe this summer, but that's six damn months away. I know I have to deal with this stuff now, even if I don't want to. I'm giving into my persecution complex. Everyone feel sorry for me; I know that I do.
I've been writing right angry poems lately I hope you all know. And not good ones, either.
posted by Sarie @
12:09 AM
>Comments: 0
