January 16, 2007

god, i love hard narrative. not so much to watch (’cause life doesn’t really work that way), but definitely to read and write. call me weird, but it’s pretty nice.

i didn’t get up to too much today. i remember waking up, fixing myself some breakfast, drinking about five glasses of orange juice and doing some laundry before i sat on the sofa and found myself asleep once again. this didn’t surprise me, as i often teeter on the edge of narcolepsy. what did surprise me were the dreams i had.

i’m not one to put heavy weight on the symbols in dreams. hardly – i’m fairly convinced that dream interpretation is about as useful to psychology as was phrenology. still, it’s been a long time since i’ve dreamt about my mother.

christ. what is with the people around me? seriously! here’s something: ever since i was young, i’ve always had authority-type people telling me that i’ve got some kind of problem. teachers, principals, counsellors, parents, bosses, t.a.s, anyone you care to sometimes hit with an open fist and then with a nametag.

“michael’s bright, but…”

but what? i don’t pay attention. i don’t play well with others. i don’t respect authority. i space out. so? so i bang my own drum from time to time. i never hit unprovoked (except once in grade 3, which was much sooner forgiven by my victim than by my teacher), i never called anyone names worse than they called me, i wanted to listen to sweet folk music instead of ridiculous music for children. in short, i was nothing but a model kid who gave people the respect they deserved. so, humble readers, why is it me that has a problem?

ever since my mother decided that i was the scum of the earth and needed to be disciplined for being myself (in the hopes of retaining the emotional capacity of a 10-year-old), my relationship with her has gone from “poor” to “non-existant”. yeah, so she’s reached out a few times. that’s great, i suppose. so when my brother clandestinely delivered a letter to me from her and i declined to receive it with no ill will toward him, and when word spread about it, all of the sudden, i’m a cold-hearted monster!

the last shrink that i ever was forced to visit somehow saw exactly what was going on. he saw that i was fine. it was everyone else who had issues.

so what am i supposed to do? apologise? i won’t do that; i’ve never done anything wrong. pretend that everything is fine? i don’t have to. everything is perfectly fine as far as i’m concerned. forgive? i don’t know the meaning of the word; any forgiveness would barely count as lip-service.

this is the twenty-first century. blood no longer makes a family.

i won’t say that i’ll always feel the following way, as people do change, but i would not advise those afflicted with united-nations syndrome to hold their breaths: i am not going to contact her, no matter what anyone says.

i suppose some would determine from this that i, in fact, have a problem. this is erroneous: there is definitely a problem, but it certainly isn’t mine.


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