Blair

Twisted Remnants of What I Was
2003-02-04 07:37:38 (UTC)

What makes me me?

And where did it go? What did it turn into?
Why am I how I am?


Yesterday, me and my mom went out to the office, Capitol
Furs, we've owned it since before I was born, since Dad
died, we have to sell it. We went out there to clean it up
a bit more, straighten up boxes and clean up puddles from
the leaky roof. I had to toss up six thirty pound boxes
onto the overhead area, about nine feet off the ground,
those were big boxes, kinda tiring.

Anyway, after we had gotten all the big stuff moved, what
was left of it anyway, I took the pushbroom to sweep up
the first warehouse floor.

I just stood there, once I had the old broom in my hands.
Looking out over the warehouse floor, cold and unforgiving
like the world, sometimes. I just stood there looking,
remembering when I used to have that broom in my hands
when it seemed so much bigger. All the times I had to
sweep that floor for my Dad, how big a job I used to think
it was. I had been chattering now and then with my mom,
but I got real quiet after that. It still hurts, you know,
it still hurts a lot. He used to watch me, just for a bit,
give me tips on how to get it swept right, good and clean.
He never tried to make me do anything perfect, he wanted
it done right, but he knew I could. The thing I remember
most, the advice he gave that was never really meant to be
advice, just him telling me what to do, imparting some
common sense on me, was, referring to just about
anything, "Take your time and do the best you can." That's
all he ever asked for. And how he lived his life. I got
tears in my eyes, from holding a broom, from thinking of
how proud I would just to hear him say "you did fine,
son." after I was done, knowing he would never be there
again to tell me that...and that I would never even have
to sweep that floor again. Sigh.

I really don't know what's happened to me. I can't blame
it all on finding my dad like that, and refusing to
grieve, though I know that effects it. I lash out at
people, I hurt the people who matter the most to me. I
hate it but sometimes I do it without thinking. I toss and
turn in my mind between worldviews. Sometimes I rail
against all that is unfair..and do it quite poorly. It
pisses me off, I can put in days or weeks of being a great
guy..but then I lose my temper once and suddenly I'm evil
and horrible and not worth the trouble. Then later when I
mention that I am not worth the trouble, when things are
calm but I am agreeing with them, I get scolded and yelled
at.

Fucked up world.

who is to say if I am worth the trouble or not? Why do I
always hurt the ones who mean the most to me? Why do I see
everything as being abandoned? I've read about that, when
lots of people close to you die, you sometimes look to be
abandoned. Maybe I push myself to it because it's what I
expect.

I don't know.

But I don't like it.

later diary.




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