Blood Musk

August 08, 2006 - 10:09

My mother believes that her children have outpaced her creatively, but rather than feeling troubled by this she views it as laurels for her. Like she's already dead. Sometimes I feel I'm that way too, minus the progeny. And the pride.
I feel like I have a bit of momentum behind my motions these days, though.
It's sad, and I never thought I'd have to struggle to maintain what used to come naturally to me. Like, reading comprehension. Or, a quick wit. Problem solving. But of course it makes sense that it would go away when I've done nothing but wallowing, and administrative tasks for the last two years.
I let something go unreasonably wrong back there to make me this freshly overwrought by the notion of school crowds. A ridiculous amount of time has passed. What used to unhinge me, has to be nothing more than a mess that I can sort out. Not even a real mess. A trivial mess that thin skin and teenage indignance made.

He's a creep, but what he says is true.