Everything I do defines me, the music I listen to, the opinions I hold, the food I eat, the books I read, the t.v. shows I watch, the magazines or newspapers I read, how I style my hair, how I dress, how much make-up i put on, what I write, who I hang out with, how hard & loud I laugh, my grades, where I live, my heritage, yet I still don't know who I am. At this point I have to laugh at the irony of it all.
I don't know what I want, actually I do, but I am surrounded with people telling me, I can't or I won't. My options are to do the "impossible" or to change my dreams and "accept" this "reality". My biggest fear is not failing, I know better than that, my biggest fear is everyone else's perception of my 'failure'. Mainly because of the way I percieve everyone else's failures. I care too much about what other people think, the downfall of growing up in a democracy is that the majority is always right. I am constantly thinking about how my actions are perceived. I have to admit that time and time again I fall into the motherly role, and it frustrates me because I don't realize I'm there until someone else points it out, or I've had enough.
What I dislike is when people try to be my mother, I like to think that I can do it on my own. Mainly because I have done it on my own. I still remember teaching myself how to ride a bike. It's funny because I only got the bike after my Dad came back, it was supposed to bring the 'family' together. ha. I spent every day after I got that bike waiting for it to be warm enough to go out there and learn. I remember asking for them to teach me when Spring came around, but Mom was busy working, and I had come to realize that I couldn't face him:I feared him. I tried to fake it, I tried to pretend things were okay, I wasn't hurting. I'm pretty sure that even if he had tried to teach me I would not have wanted him to. But finally I was fed up with their excuses, took the bike outside, put the kickstand up and started peddling. I sucked it up and put aside my fears. It came easy, I could do it. There I was riding in circles around the neighborhood, all on my own. Little did I know this would foreshadow the way it was going to be from there on out. Doing things essentially on my own. The pride of getting things accomplished is not the same as I remember it feeling, rather it doesn't feel as good as I thought it did, sometimes it is nice having someone there willing to give up everything to help you, even if you don't need them too. It kills me that there are people with no obligation to me that are willing to help in any and every way possible, and yet my 'family' won't. It has taken a lot to let go of that resentment, and I'm still in the process of that. I just keep telling myself that I don't understand the whole situation, particularly her side of the situation. I think she's hurtng too, and now that's she's sick she must be hurting more. How do I deal with that? Why can't I be there for her like I'm there for my friends? I just want to let it go but it is what I'm holding on to. The bane of my existence and the core of my motivation...
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