Something's Got to Give
©Rachel C
I think Christmas day was the first time I have ever wanted to get so drunk I wouldn’t think. I don’t know if that holds true. I took a sip of my sister’s wine today, sneaking it in the kitchen after she’d gone to bed, and I can still feel it more than an hour later. The heat, the discomfort—I am not cut out to be a drinker. I can’t handle the loss of control.
Everyday I come home, or walk into a room full of people I haven’t seen all day, I am asked “have you gotten a job yet?” I’m working on it, I reply, to the purposely hurtful question, as if giving my best effort could never be good enough. I can’t help but wonder how hypocritical it all is, for someone to so hurtfully judge me for being back one week and still jobless, while they offer no help in finding me a position. I guess we are on a different level. You see, because none of them have lived one week outside of Oklahoma; none of them have moved their lives to an unfamiliar city; none of them have been forced to leave the only place they’ve ever called home to come back to a place they never wanted. None of them understand, I knew that moving back here. No one has seen me grow the way I have since August. Everyone is expecting the same person when they see me, the same person I was in high school, the same person they want me to be—because, that person makes them feel good, that person makes them feel accomplished, that person makes them feel superior. And I have stopped offering to be that person, so they have stooped to find a new self-satisfaction in my failure.
I can’t help but wonder if they love me for my short comings. I can’t help but wonder if, when I finally succeed, they will acknowledge my talent. I don’t think they want to, it probably makes them feel bad, I don’t think they know how to be proud of anyone but themselves. It’s a misplaced pride, I think. But who am I to judge, I can’t possibly know.
I feel like I have said this, over and over, all of my life dedicated to conveying these truths. I want to overcome this, because it is holding me down. I want to move beyond them, their negativity is bringing out my pessimistic nature. I want to succeed, I want to be happy, and I don’t want to care that, once I have and once I am, they will still treat me like I have nothing to give, I have no social worth, and that I will never be as good as they are.
I know I set high goals for myself, but I also know that I am the only one who can achieve them. That could never be enough for my family, but it must be enough for me.
December 28, 2006
Author's Note: as the subject reads, sorry if this is something similar to what I have said, but I am not writing to be original, I am writing to feel. This is, once again, a continuation. I hope it's all starting to make sense.
I think Christmas day was the first time I have ever wanted to get so drunk I wouldn’t think. I don’t know if that holds true. I took a sip of my sister’s wine today, sneaking it in the kitchen after she’d gone to bed, and I can still feel it more than an hour later. The heat, the discomfort—I am not cut out to be a drinker. I can’t handle the loss of control.
Everyday I come home, or walk into a room full of people I haven’t seen all day, I am asked “have you gotten a job yet?” I’m working on it, I reply, to the purposely hurtful question, as if giving my best effort could never be good enough. I can’t help but wonder how hypocritical it all is, for someone to so hurtfully judge me for being back one week and still jobless, while they offer no help in finding me a position. I guess we are on a different level. You see, because none of them have lived one week outside of Oklahoma; none of them have moved their lives to an unfamiliar city; none of them have been forced to leave the only place they’ve ever called home to come back to a place they never wanted. None of them understand, I knew that moving back here. No one has seen me grow the way I have since August. Everyone is expecting the same person when they see me, the same person I was in high school, the same person they want me to be—because, that person makes them feel good, that person makes them feel accomplished, that person makes them feel superior. And I have stopped offering to be that person, so they have stooped to find a new self-satisfaction in my failure.
I can’t help but wonder if they love me for my short comings. I can’t help but wonder if, when I finally succeed, they will acknowledge my talent. I don’t think they want to, it probably makes them feel bad, I don’t think they know how to be proud of anyone but themselves. It’s a misplaced pride, I think. But who am I to judge, I can’t possibly know.
I feel like I have said this, over and over, all of my life dedicated to conveying these truths. I want to overcome this, because it is holding me down. I want to move beyond them, their negativity is bringing out my pessimistic nature. I want to succeed, I want to be happy, and I don’t want to care that, once I have and once I am, they will still treat me like I have nothing to give, I have no social worth, and that I will never be as good as they are.
I know I set high goals for myself, but I also know that I am the only one who can achieve them. That could never be enough for my family, but it must be enough for me.
December 28, 2006
Author's Note: as the subject reads, sorry if this is something similar to what I have said, but I am not writing to be original, I am writing to feel. This is, once again, a continuation. I hope it's all starting to make sense.
2 comments:
trust me on this--once your out and on your own, you will blossom far away from the shackles that bind you...you will transform into YOU.
Mmmm...me.
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