Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Monday, February 14, 2011

Loaded Questions 06

. What is failure? For some, it is what drives you. For others the fear that motivates. For me it is another reason to say I'm sorry. I have a lot of people to appologize to. A lot of explaining to do. But sorry. That's a different word. It is an admission of guilt. I am guilty of being a sorry individual. I AM sorry. But what I need to do, ya know; healing... getting past it, moving on, starting over, what I need to do is appologize to several people for my failings. Starting with myself. I thought I could measure up, put myself to the test. I wasn't ready and therefore set myself up for the initial failure. I failed to say I wasn't ready or to do something about the fact that I knew it. Forgiveness is another matter for another day. Today is about admission. I couldn't have done better but at least I tried despite the odds.

. When I was a kid I could never write thank you notes because I wanted people to feel stupid for giving to an obvious failure. That and I was lazy. Seriously though, I never felt good enough, never felt that anyone was proud of me. Least of all my parent. Having a mentally challenged brother will give the reasonable excuse. Pick your own, whichever you like better. Ready? ... Either he was always so far below be that all the compliments I got I felt were against an obviously inferiour comparative. Or ... Caring for him made me so much the adult at an early age that failure was inevitable considering a child was competing against college grads.

. Suprise! It was both. But somewhere I stopped trying to compete. Maybe because I didn't get the lead in the school play, or the other kids didn't like me or the adults refused to have real conversations with me... But I tried to be a kid for once and it failed. I didn't know how to be a kid. How to have fun or whatever else kids feel. When my mom said she was proud of me I saw a lack of sincerity in her eyes and I wasn't suprised. When she insisted on humiliating me, I saw a spark in her eyes that I knew made her feel alive. I haven't looked in her eyes since.

. What bothers me the most however, is my mother's insistance on not letting the family know who I am and what is actually going on in my life. I am a stranger to them. A fact I plan to change shortly. Provided my Grandfather can stay alive long enough for me to figure out who I am and how to introduce myself to them. After all what they hear of me, they think they know who I am. I want them to actually know. More than that though I want them to accept me for the person I am. It would be healing, comforting, progressive for me to know that I have family who cares, knows me and cares still. I hope they accept me. They probably won't ignore what they have known so far. But none of it has been more than half truths and concealed realisms. Most of all I want to appologize for not coming out with it sooner or being honest and open with them all along. I did feel ashamed afraid and as if I had no right to. I have recently realized the error in that and I don't want to shock, but I want to be honest and forward and hopefully loved anyway.

. I appologize for not realizing the truth, for not being forthright about it, for not believing it myself and for hiding it because someone implied I should.

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