Finding Time

My skin hurts. It hurts all over. I feel like I am burning and everything that rubs my skin in the lightest ways makes my skin crawl. All over I feel goosebumps and inside I feel like my insides are melting. Pain is relative, a weakness of the mind, and yet, I have given in to it.

I want to cry to let out everything that I feel, I want to talk to someone who will listen and not pretend just to care. But who am I to kid? Almost two months of silence went by because I have been biting my toungue. At this point, I can't even swallow. Every word that I mutter tastes bitter and cold, as if I were a very mean person.

False modesty is a way of lying, but lately I have found that secrets can turn into lies and lies can take the form of many other things. Like saying you are friends when you don't really mean it. Like saying you will care for your children and then letting them go the wrong way. What am I to do or say? I've said it before but I can say it again, I am not the person to sit and watch a disaster happen if I can avoid it.

I think that is my problem. I believe I have the power to fix things, or at least I like to pretend like I do. Possessing knwoledge is a gift, its what we do with it that makes a difference. Being ignorant is something that I look down upon, and yet here I am wishing that I couldn't tell wrong from right.

Everyone is guilty of something. Everyone.

For me, its a guilt that I cannot tolerate at this time because I have to do it alone. Its a heavy burden that I wish I could let go of, but I can't. Sometimes, we loose the people we love the most, maybe for the better. Breathing is a matter of uncounsiousness, thinking is also innate. I want to stop. I wish the world would stop for just a second and realize that with every selfish decision, we are hurting the people we love the most. I mean, who cares right? As long as we please ourselves and we can YOLO.

Let me say something about YOLO: it is the most mundane thinking there is. It is the most selfish style of living there is. We are in this world temporarily awaiting our reward. We cannot live for ourselves if we want that reward. We don't live once, we are meant to live forever. I don't think people realize how little time we have left, they just keep living like they don't have a clue that our reward is almost here.

I don't write to depress people or to criticize or make them angry or to try to change the world. I write because it is the most selfish thing I do; I need an outlet for my feelings.

Earlier this evening I was watching TV with my dear sister and one of the characters told another parent concerning parenting and children: "You found time to have them, now find time to be with them." Parenting is something I shouldn't talk about, but since I know exactly what this quote means, I'm going to take the bother to do so even though I don't have or plan to have kids.

Lately I've learned that parenting is a job no one is ready for and its a job that takes a lifetime. Jodi Picoult said, "you sign no contact to become a parent, but the responsibilities were written in invisible ink. There was a point when you had to support your child; even if no one else would. It was your job to rebuild the bridge even if your child was then one who had burned it in the first place." My dear reader, parenting is not something that can be taken for granted. The love of a mother surpasses any love in the world. When parents get lazy and comfortable, when they think they can trust their kids to make wise choices, when they stop caring who they are interacting with, when they refuse to see the warning signs, when they are too blind to see their children's feelings, when they leave them to in the care of a stranger's hand, when they allow them to do and get away with anything, when they don't take action in time to pull their kids back in line, when they are too uncomfortable talking to them, when their own kid becomes a stranger living in their house, that is when a parent has failed. Kids have to be let go of at one point, and we will never be ready enough to face the world out there. However, a parent will move heaven and hell to have their kids next to them their entire life. When, however, do they stop caring? When its too late? When the damage is too great? Whe the hope is gone? No. A parent will never give up. A child though will not care and leave. Parenting is a job that takes time and EFFORT. If you can't afford them, if you can't find the time to be with them, to get to know them, then you should not be a parent. You will ruin their lives and your own as a parent.  At 18, we do not become owners of our lives, we do not become responsible adults, we do not reach full maturity. 18 is a number designated by the government to give themselves permission to tax you and to draft you and to try us as adults and stick us in jail. 18 is just a number that gives us no right.

Sometimes, I wish I had a friend that would not leave. A friend that would know when I feel out of place without me saying it. I wish I had a friend that would not lie and that would do anything that would keep me in line. That one friend that can take care of me in times of sickness. This is not a pity party; it is simply a manifest of my sick mind. I told myself I would not cry, but I made no lousy promise to myself. One day I'm going to leave. I'm going to go so far away and so fast, it will make my head spin. I will leave and the only one that will care is my creator. I'm not angry or sad. I'm simply tired of people being selfish.