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.
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.