A place for my thoughts and ideas, my creative outlet, a little piece of the web for me to call my own...yeah...right...
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| a bite of chocolat... ::home:: A place for my thoughts and ideas, my creative outlet, a little piece of the web for me to call my own...yeah...right... |
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Friday, March 07, 2003 Sometimes I reflect upon the lives of the people I know, and I sit and wonder about my own. What will I be doing in five years? In ten? Forty years from now? Tomorrow's my parents' wedding anniversary. I'm not sure if either one of them knew that before I looked through their box of wedding stuff tonight. It was actually the first time I'd seen it, since it used to be under their bed, covered in dust. It was put with the other photo albums when we repainted their room. I came across it tonight and opened it up next to my mom on the couch. I found the guest list and read off the names of people I'd never heard of. For some of them, she had interesting stories to tell. Others, she didn't remember. Sad, I thought. It made me think about my future. Whose weddings will I have been to? Will I have been in any? Who will I still know? And then I started on my usual train of thought. How everyone's so unhappy. How I don't want that. And how I've always hated wedding gowns. Maybe that's just because I'm afraid of growing up, afraid of marriage or something. But I can't name happily married couples to fill one hand. The ones who claim to be, they're probably lying. Everyone's so unhappy. My dad's dad died when he was two. My mom's mom over-dosed on sleeping pills, fell into a coma, and died of pneumonia...when she found out my gramps had been cheating on her. He remarried to his mistress from down the street. She hated his children, my mother and her two sisters. Her children, she had three daughters from a previous marriage and another with gramps, her children always came first. Mom was locked in the basement when she wouldn't eat the fat from the dinner meat. She looks so pretty in the photographs, but she doesn't really look happy... Oh, there's my cousin, Todd. He had just married some blonde and had a beautiful baby girl, Jessica, we call her Jessie, when he came home drunk one night and started fighting with his wife. He walked into a closet and shot himself in the head. I wonder if he did it in the temple or the mouth. I dunno, they cremated him. My aunt Weeze, her daughter was born with mild Down Syndrome and her asshole husband left her. My neighbor kicked her husband out. His alcoholism was a bad influence on their five children. I don't want to be like all of them. If I marry, maybe I'll wear black. Maybe everyone should die before they reach forty; everyone's happy when they're twenty-something and fucking. Sometimes I've ventured to say I'll never marry. But I do want to, I think. I don't want a traditional wedding. Outside, maybe? And maybe I'll wear crimson... I want to wake up at eleven on a Sunday morning, walk downstairs for breakfast, and find someone there who makes me happy by just being there. I want to have children to look at when they're sleeping and think, I can see so much of your father in you...I want to tell my children stories... I'm afraid life isn't all it's cracked up to be, but it's all we've got. It's the only thing that really matters. It takes effort to make it worth surviving the hard parts. And so I'll try, and I'll still hope, and I'll just have to wait and see. posted by Shannon | 2:14 AM |
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