Get going

It feels as if I haven’t been away at all. I have been right here at home from the start without even leaving my room once. Every minute mother would come in to ask me this and that. Then father would come in and ask me this and that. I decided to print out Stephen King’s quote to stick it to the wall right in front of my eyes. When trying to get my head clear and controlling my excessive anger outbreaks, I would stare at those words and remember my promise; the promise I had made to myself.

I guess people still do not know that don’t like discussions. I rarely discuss anything, unless I truly share a passion about it. All I want is to hear STORIES! YOUR STORIES! Anything else doesn’t matter, does it? Who cares? Why am I bringing this up again! It’s done with.

Now I’m beginning to understand why that former friend of mine said that writing is mere soliloquy. I am not better than a bum talking to a pigeon or bumble bee.

It seems to me that the only person in this family who actually cares about the stability of this family is my mother; my mother alone. All the rest (that includes me) is so apathetic that it’s breaking her heart.  I have not much to share with realists and she is one of those; it’s terrible, but also admirable. She will be the one to keep the family together and I love her for it, even though I know she’ll resent all of us for giving almost zero support. I don’t know how my dad or sister feels here, but I hate myself for being such an egocentric antihero. But you do not understand, unless you remember my four goals which I once listed. It’s goal number two – something that I think about every single fucking day. Actually it should be goal number one, BUT things need to be done in order, especially goal one and goal two. Goal number two can only be fulfilled once goal number one has been achieved. If you remember the goals, then you’ll understand why I am under such an indescribable pressure that kills me every day, even when having holidays. I need to get started. I need time. I need space. I need room to breathe. I need my I.R.. I need to work hard. I work for no one except for my family and myself. You may judge me (hell do it), but you may not judge the way I am with my family. I know what I am like, but now that you know how I really feel on the inside – please shut your trap.

I know people talk about short attention span. Is there anything like a short patience span? Impatience sounds way too simplistic and childish. I have been uncontrollably impatient all my life, similar to the white rabbit in Lewis Carroll’s famous tale. Every day seems to end hourly for me and I know damn well how unhealthy this attitude is, but I cannot help it. I just want my parents to have more years of happiness ahead of them, instead of years of struggle and desperation.  That’s why I need to get going. Get going. Life writing isn’t getting me anywhere right now. I need to start working with I.R. who is my muse (King’s muse is male and so is mine!), my inspiration and my other half. Something needs to change rapidly before I collapse. Now staring at King’s quote breaks my heart, because I’ve not been following his rule today. There are distractions in each corner, distractions that need considerations; otherwise I would make my life even harder to live. As I said, it’s this short patience span.

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