Drunk and all alone

And it does not matter, at least not now.

The shattering moment by an unknown assailent
innocence lost
friendships betrayed

when I started this journey
it was so important to be heard
to have another pity me for how i hurt
And To be selfish every moment because I was a horrible person.

but then I grew
it became more important
to feel what you felt
to boost your self esteem
to be there for you.
to help
to be with
to try
to honestly care

Honestly care

Honestly

It does not matter now!

I tried,  tried so hard and so may times
tried to be good
tried to be true

when you called  me at 2am stranded, I was your first call,
and  I thank you all from the bottom of my soul for trusting me.

I have spent so many hours and have
grown so much to be who I am today

I am human and have my problems, but I tried

tried
Tried to fix them
Tried to be at peace with them
tried to put them aside,....

Put my problems aside because I hoped I could turn my life around

Put my problems aside because, although I did not know there would be a you in my life,

I knew you needed someone to listen to you,
and help you,
guide you,
or just be with you when you did not want to be alone.

i have hours of navigating through peoples problems late at night and early in the morning in so many different coffee shops, just because that is the time someone needed a friend to talk to.

I think people called me because they knew i would answer,
knew i cared and
knew they could trust me,

funny, "trust me" is 3000 miles away from where I started my adult life.

Some people saw the journey and hold my past against me,
some only know me now and can't believe how messed up I was.

most people, I think,,.. I hope... are Okay with who I am today.

but all  my insecurities still haunt, and  I wonder, ....
if there is anyone,.. I can call at 2:am when  I need to talk. ....?

but that does not matter now

and my journey from 3000 miles ago to now does not matter.

Because,

because, In the time it takes to jump to conclusions, or
Place a phone call, or

in the shattering moment that it took  the drunk to run a red light and crash into my car.

I..

I, am now dead,
and,
and my dear friends,
I have died all alone.

the clock turns 11 minutes into a month

And the stark reality is i am lying.

11 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

I live in my world of art, but my art is shades of white.

I say the hard surface of my art are not shades of white but a beige color, juxtaposed the white walls.  And the wool, sparingly strewn to only the upper corner is a natural white, which is not quite beige, and certainly not white.

13 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

And the broken shards of my art on the ground are not white either.

I am lying.  They really are shades of white.

I live in a state of emptiness that I have created, and don't know if I want to escape.

my shades of white are just a way to make you think I am okay.

I am okay because my art can mean, to you, that I live in the light,

White is Light, .... right?

I am lying to myself that the white "I create"  is light.

17 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

Light is such a happy place, full of warmth and love.

Warmth and love, like from a mom

my mom's love shown with exactness and rigidity.
and her warmth is like hot soup on a 110 degree day.

mom's love full of condescending tones and words of intolerance.
and warmth is the lesson, my scarred hand remembers all to well about how the stove can sear your flesh.

23 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

so my hard surfaced art is unyielding and when pushed to hard breaks leaving shards on the floor.

11 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

I look at my watch and see it has been 11 minutes, and I jot it down, I will need to know this.

But maybe it is too late,.....

I, now a month ago, decided that I am Okay and do not need the highly conditional love from my mother, but now every show on TV and conversation I hear is about mothers.

.
.
.


A month ago it started,
-- I did not call her, for one day -  I always needed to call her, she did not call me.

Somehow the phrase "the phone works both ways", never entered her mind, when it came to me........

 She knew how to use a phone to call her friends.

She knew how to use a phone to call my sibling.

So one day a month ago I did not call her.

7 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

the first day was hard, not because of love, but because of habit.

By day four, I felt my heart sink a little, and decided to let the silence exist.

Let the silence exist

The rigidity of our love, would surly survive a few days, and I, like her, know how to be resolute and unyielding.

Day ten was a Sunday, a holy day for some.
For some families they have rituals like "big breakfast",or "football", or "laundry day"-

For me day ten was the second Sunday not interrupted by a two hour long, one sided conversation that leaves me feeling insecure, incompetent and depressed.

a mom's love shown by pointing out all the mistakes I made the previous week, comparing me to everyone else she knows, belittling the only thing in life that lets me be me.
and a warmth that is the ice cold exhale of  disapproval, when I try to defend myself from her emotional assaults.

29 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

Today is a month later and she has not called me, my sibling ask whats up, but I say nothing.

They would not understand that for me the phone does NOT work both ways.


Today, I hear echo's in my head of time passing, 11 minutes, 17 minutes, 5 minutes.....

How odd I think these minutes,...

 and then I become aware that these echos are the number of minutes between each thought of my mother.

A month ago today, I let silence exist, and today I become keenly aware that the first 11 minutes has turned into a month.


And the TV shows a movie about a mother and abandoned-child reconciling.
And a co-worker has to leave work early and catch a flight because her mother has passed away.
And news shows an nine and eleven year old taken away from their mother for neglect.
and...
and...

And I met a man, today, who did not cry when his mom died,.....  it took him years to realize his guilt was not about the lack of tears but  Only because society says you are supposed to miss your mom, and he does not.
and..
and,..

53 minutes (said inside my head as an echo)

and I wonder how long I will let the silence exist.