mother and obligations

24 years ago
a 24 year old woman
held in her eyes
a story forged by
a future 24 years
ahead in time
authored by her
lifetime of 24
bounded in
her mother’s
sight
plight
might
and flight
24 years ago

I just hope she
doesn’t feel obligated
to feel about her
story lived wrong



Talking about family always makes me feel conflicted, perhaps that’s the case with most people. Despite the relentless, shameless and most of the time exaggerated blames I lay at them (especially my mother) – at the end of anything at all – from the last page of a book to a sip of tea – I know that if I don’t have my parents I have nobody to look towards.

Their expectations and my inability to touch them will always end up making me feeling guilty which I (to save myself) will pour in the cup labeled ‘I am special hence…’ and drink it only to have a comfortable sleep.

I am trying to get better at confrontations. Or I could be lying to myself. I can’t tell the difference anymore. Twenty fours into life and being glued at the starting line isn’t what’s bringing out this demented talk – races aren’t about timings if you’re a fast runner anyway – it’s about my
willingness – but only to give up
determination – to never change
courage – to lie, lie and lie again
confidence – that worthless people like me shouldn’t be allowed to live

Life doesn’t have to be a race. But for most parts – it is.

And, that’s why even if I’d never be able to say this to my mother because that would only invoke more questions – I really hope she doesn’t feel any obligation towards me – to feel happy about my birthday or my life (in general) and ask me to go out and do something ‘for myself’ because in all honesty i don’t fucking deserve it…or anything.  I don’t even deserve pain – I simply hope to be erased from everyone’s mind – once and for all.

My mother has grown in ways so much more wonderful than anyone I have known and I am sure she will keep on doing that. She is a beautiful, talented and strong woman and I love her for that. She has made me whatever little good I am today. My words, patience, tolerance, calm, quirk…everything and so much more which I have burnt. I wish her well.

I write this in order to remember…remind myself that I am thankful. That I am not a lost cause till this exists.

…This is why I have stopped writing prose-y stuff.

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12 comments

  1. Some things aren’t active, conscious pursuits (or fueled by moral obligations). Just like many believe we have innate aggressiveness, I feel like most parents have love, which was born in them only when the child came to be. Now, I’m not claiming I know shit about the subject, just that what fuels their actions cannot be limited to the speculation of simply obligation. So what, even if they feel obliged? It wouldn’t be a drag of an obligation because 1) they knew what they were getting themselves into when they decided to have a baby and 2) it’s a force, a fuel. It’s not like waking up in the morning and feeling utterly apathetic towards doing the dishes. It’s like waking up in the morning because you want to do the dishes. Now the person may have bags under their eyes but they’re doing what they want to do/chose to do. You’re an amazing writer and it always seems bizarre to think of someone who spews amazing words as regular human being with worries and troubles. Everyone just assumes you’re the (amazing) words you write. Sometimes happiness is as simple as eluding the voices that tell you you’re not good enough (internal or external). Perhaps Maslow’s hierarchy does have a point. Starting from scratch worked for me. Making sure to meet all the basic needs at the bottom, I slowly worked my way up. If you get a clearer view of you, maybe you’ll get a clearer view of them.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I agree with your views on this subject. Despite the fact that whatever I write is mostly about ‘feelings’ and their subjectivity I am a person who believes in objectivity and balance. For me (and it could be a shite theory, but that is who I am) there has to be an absolute “=” in life. My parents do stuff for me, I pay them back through whatever it is i can. When I cannot I have a breakdown…only after going through a lot of excusing myself out of it. Nothing that is nature can be changed though and I will always land up here, I suppose. It gets worse with age too it seems. I wish I had an internal voice – I only have echoes of what others have said already. Hollowness does that, I guess?
      I am not an amazing person but I am very much humbled by your words, not to mention grateful for your thoughtfulness too.
      As an existentialist it is kind of difficult to appreciate the Maslow Need Hierarchy but yeah I am definitely struggling at the physiological stage which education is supposed to take care of…
      Thank you for the brilliantly interesting comment. I always love reading your thoughts.

      Like

  2. Happy belated B-Day! 24 was an odd age for me. That’s kind of all I remember about it, sadly. I spent too much time undercover from 22-26, but that’s a story for another time maybe. Hope your 24 is unusual too! (in a good way) 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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