I'm having one of those "why go to sleep nights". I don't really have anyting important to say, just want to say something to pass the time. There's something about typing, letting your fingers fly and thoughts come out. It feels as if you're doing something and nothing. Ever feel like that?
I was packing away things tonight, as I've been doing most afternoons and nights for the past week. I'm a slow packer, slow cleaner for that matter, because I like to go through everything from bone up. I pick up a piece of paper that I scribbled on a month ago and sit there while I try to remember what was going through my head when I wrote it, or why I wrote it in the first place. Something I thought was long gone might even reemerge. Then, I'll be stuck in memories and my room will still be as cluttered as ever.
In about 2 months, I'll be gone and away to college. I've been going to a community college for the past two years but I don't think it felt like more than a step up from high school. I still lived at home and still had the nagging feeling that no one saw me as an adult and wouldn't let me until I pried the fingers off. So, here I am staring at the death grip on my arm and wondering if I can really get it off if I just take it one finger at a time.
My mother, she looks at me with worried and confused eyes. I think she's wondering what went wrong, and why I didn't just do as she said and lived life the way she thought it would be best. The problem wasn't that I didn't want to be more assertive like she told me to be, be more efficient and organized. It was that I was afraid to be just that and find that it stuck while the part of me that I was still working on went away. Sounds selfish and whiny, right? Truth is that we go about life wanting to be something, but something else usually gets in the way. I don't want that to get in the way, so I'll try not to look directly at it and walk sideways for now. Perhaps I'll get somewhere.
