note: this is a journal entry by Violet.
My Journal (That is not About Him)
chapter 1: My Mother
Dear mother. The past year, before you died- were the months I began finding it difficult to understand you. I had left home for most of it, until you were diagnosed. And dad was, dead.
Dad died when I was 15, you- 23. It hurt, but if it were to have happened when I was 16- it would have hurt more.
I had a lot of things against you then when I was 16. I still hold them against you, against your dead soul. But I never express them - they are deep inside me, and they always will be.
My 16 year old heart, had a lot to pour out. Voicing that Violet-
It's like you don't care anymore. You don't care if I'm asleep. If I'm kissed before falling into my own oblivion of thoughts. As if, I'm not shattered into a billion pieces because of you- that you don't need to save me from my own shards.
You don't look at me the way you used to. You look at your friends, and your servants with more passion that to your own daughter.
We don't talk much. If I come to you, I'm sent back with fierce eyes. I feel less loved - maybe because I'm 16? Or maybe because you have learnt something awful of me. I do have an awful lot of awful pleasures I wish to keep confined within me. But, non of them grow to such a disastrous extent- that now when we look eye to eye, you are furious each time. Or is it because Dad died? I fight the fire with fire- but all that is left is smoke It's not like your past was ever so pretty. But, my present, right now- which shall become my past when I leave home. That's the present we both together, are shattering. You're my mother. My everything. The women I love beyond any other person. But, tonight, and every night, I feel more distant. As if, your problems seem greater than our bond.
I'm no longer your best friend. I have felt that since a few years. I never liked the shows we used to watch- I just liked sitting with you. And feeling your presence against my skin.I never cared to understand the show. I cared about how I can be with you, and not entirely have to frustrate myself with your "victim card playing
You did play a lot of it though. And it's not a game you can win with blame, so I never did try. I loved you. I still love you. But do you love me? Do you care about my hair anymore? My sleep cycle? My friends? My social presence? My mind- not that you ever tried understanding it. But don't you worry about me anymore?
The lack of conversations we have. It's all boiled down to me forcing conversations "what's for dinner"
I didn't lose everything with my dad, because we had very less between us. I didn't share with him, or even with you. But you listened. You listened without even listening. You hugged me, and even though I never heard you say "it'll be alright" I always felt it. Aunt Arma fears me. She fears that I'll kill myself. Does my depression show up that much? I keep telling myself "no I'm not depressed" and no, im not. Im just sad that nobody in this big house is connected anymoreIt feels as if we are breaking this family before letting anyone else break it. But it broke- it broke the night dad died.
And we fear too much. We fear the future - but we aren't living an ounce alive in the present.
I am. I try to at least. I fear, but I don't fear all the time. It's like - I fear when I'm the most vulnerable. I'm not vulnerable all the time. I know I will leave this house one day. And I will leave you all behind. It's not because of you or my father. It's because of an unloved marriage
And I understand that. You do not
I won't run away from life, but the day I leave this habitat and grow close to something of my own - don't expect me to hide in here with my fears and your fears taking the best of us
It'll be fine. It really will. I don't like the truth- but mom, today's real. And today they're aren't any earthquakes piercing our lives into halves. I'm growing 16 everyday I realize that my world means less to me, and more to the people around me.
Good night mother. I'll see you when Im dead.
*end of journal*
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