it cannot be denied - she’s my daughter
Need I say more?
Running Away
I want to run away. At this moment, from myself and from everything I know.
I look at my arms and the fingers that have sprouted from my hand and they don’t seem like they belong to me at all.
Happiness is a decision, they say. How can one be happy when you did not choose your person. I was born into this persona, wasn’t I?
I have a job that makes me want to kill myself. I walk into my workplace to re-enact the scenes from Ayn Rands’ books. But I am not the dashing heroine – I am one of the worms, the free floaters whose sole purpose is to continue this drudgery of an existence.
I look at my children. What beautiful creatures, full of hope and future. Very malleable if only I could… I could make them into the persons that I am not if only I could but I do not have the time because I have this work. This work that is killing me, that takes me away from the home that I wanted to build, from the arms and cheery smiles and the laughter of my children.
And there’s my husband. The person that I thought I knew like the back of my hand. He’s mired by his own vision of success. I know him like the back of my hand but he’s not how I wanted to know as him.
No words from Lao Tzu or from those long dead Existentialists can rescue me from this pit.
This is the winter of discontent… even when we have the sun all year.
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