angeljazz711

Writing again

I was told in a fortune that I should start writing again.  Basically, I guess it'll help me think: getting my thoughts, feelings, and impressions on a digital cloud.  Maybe it'll help me figure out where I stand and where I fall.  Maybe it'll be like talking to an old friend.

I wrote a lot more when I was depressed and having suicidal thoughts.  I found stuff I wrote in the past while purging my childhood room.  EMBARRASSING.  I usually can't bear to read things I've written.  Raw feelings, indeed, but so... terrible.  I don't want this to be that, but I have a feeling that's what writing IS.  The true test of it all is probably not giving a shit.

My uncle's funeral was yesterday.  I didn't "know" him, but really I did.  I hadn't seen him since I was very small, but I remembered how nice he was.  He'd buy me presents all the time.  My Little Pony toys.  My favorite.  How did he know?  He had great taste...  I remember loving every single one.  So, I feel like I <i>knew</i> him, though I can't tell you what his middle name was.

I wanted to go to the service, but there was something I didn't think about.  A black(er) cloud over the ambient darkness.  My father would probably be there.  After all, my uncle was his brother.  Why wouldn't he be there?  I didn't want to see him.  I realized I wasn't ready:  I'm the girl who always says it doesn't matter, that I don't care if I see him or not.  But really, I don't want to.  One day I might.

I haven't seen my father since I was 6? 7?  And what do I do with that?  Deep in my heart I know he didn't want a kid.  I felt it as a kid.  I'm okay with it now.  I'm not hurt by it at all because I'm sure he had/has emotional issues like me.  I don't want any kids; I get it.  I just have a psychological need to not see him until I am perfect.

Perfect to me isn't what it really means by definition to everyone else.  To me, it's a state of mind where I feel complete.  I've felt it at various times, in between transitory cycles.  I know I can reach it again.  Perfect.  I should probably find a better word...

Anyway, I realized I wasn't there and I wasn't ready.  And it wouldn't be fair to the uncle I loved to ruin his special day.  If only I could've hidden my face and ducked in and out.  I would've loved to see him, to have cried over all the years I didn't.  In the end, I'm glad I didn't go, but I really had wanted to.

I guess there are too many unknowns in a meeting like that.  What if.... and I can't think of a single situation that could happen.  My dad would look at me and then... black hole.  Not realize who I am?  Would that hurt? Would I feel relieved?  What if I didn't recognize him?  But I'd have to, right?  Would I be afraid?  Sad?  Excited?  It's strange to say: as deeply as I know myself, I have no idea how I'd react.  Probably because I don't know who he is.


Job

I need to find a job where I fit in, where I feel like I'm making a difference in the world.  That's really what I crave.  I get that from my volunteer gig, but not from my paying job.  I have this need to prove myself maybe?  To do good.  To be good.  To feel satisfied.  But also simply to belong somewhere.  "This is what I was meant to do."  But I don't know where to find such a job, such a purpose.  I have to make money to live. 

I feel stuck, but really tired now.  I think I'll type more tomorrow after some rest.

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