The Universe’s relentless strike against me seems to be continuing on with these past few days leaving me even worse for wear. Rather than fighting on I’ve succumbed to the darkness, letting its sickly depressing clench embrace me fully. It’s been tough lately, in fact the whole of 2013 has not been kind nor was the year prior and I just need a break from it all.
So it’s official, my brother has moved out and into your home, leaving me behind which in turn makes me that loser sibling. The loser, older sibling still living at home with no money and no lucrative future. I feel like I am doomed to become this typical spinster who’ll be living at her parents home well into her forties with nothing more than her handful of dogs for companionship.
Part of that does sound appealing though, the dog part does sound rather inviting, and I suppose I’ve come accustomed to always being the single girl so a life in the singles lane wouldn’t be so bad, it’s just the living with my parents that makes me shudder horribly. The days that go by of late are no better than when my brother resided with us, but I do feel like they’re worse since one can visibly see a new divide within the household and the pressure and tension boiling within my mother.
There’s been a few changes, the most noticeable being the lack of food in this house, well food consumable for my tastes anyway. And I thought before when my brother lived with us it was bad but it seems like those one or two extras you’d find now and then were specifically purchased for my brothers enjoyment, not my own. No more of those cream biscuits you’d find on special at Woolworths nor any raisin loaf bread. And fruit, well forget that there’s only bananas and over ripened apples in our cupboards, things I don’t like to eat. The fridge is virtually bare too with only some mild cheddar I like and the rest is the usual eggs, ham and veggies. Things for producing main meals, hardly things to snack on.
Maybe it’s just the conspiracy theorist within drawing up and making all these awful connections but I can’t help but notice the evidence that’s presented before me. Everything right now seems to point to a divide. A divide between my parents and myself. And I get that I am old enough to look after myself, to be independent and all and I can and I am but it’s just hurtful to see this change and feel like it’s directed at me to make a point of some sort. The fact that this divide has taken place almost immediately after his departure is overwhelming evidence to this theory and is such a blow to my self-worth and self-esteem. It’s hard not to notice the less than abundant pantry and the grocery run from yesterday which also came back noticeably lighter. Usually she’d come back with some bakery goodies, like a pizza slice or cake but not yesterday. Seems like those treats were reserved solely for him, I’d get one too because well you can’t buy for one and not the other. Now he’s not here there’s no need for such extravagance.
I know its early days and I suppose this is something I’ll have to wait out and see how it truly plays, maybe the grocery run over the weekend will bring about some extra food, maybe the usual doughnut pack or strawberry punnet to restore my faith and annihilate this cruel theory.
We also had another fight late last night after I came downstairs and went into the study. As soon as I flicked on the light I heard her probing voice ask me what I was doing in there. As if I had no right to be in that room, a room that houses my collection of novels and coffee table books as well as that oversized desk that now holds a few of your possessions; vases with plastic flowers to be exact. I responded with an honest and innocent “just looking for a book,” and it sent her into her usual demonic madness spitting fire at my direction, shaming me by letting me know of her disgust over my love for reading.
“Boooooks, your stupid books. That’s why you have no job because you read your stupid books.”
That’s what she spat out at me, as if reading was the most atrocious thing one can do. Completely uneducated and a totally unfounded train of thought which I have no idea where it stems from. It’s not the first time I’ve heard her hiss such a phrase and it’s something I am ashamed to even tell you about. I don’t understand why she feels that way. I mean grandfather was known for his love of books and story telling as was great-grandfather. She’s always retelling those childhood memories of hers when she’d sit by the fire with her cousins, watching him roll his cigarette with precision whilst telling a story. Even her brother has a love for the written word so I just don’t understand it. Maybe it’s just a hate for me in general or this 80’s way of thinking that reading is for losers or nerds.
I walked away shaking my head knowing this was another battle I couldn’t win even though there was no actual need for combat to begin with. I am so tired of defending myself in times like this and for things such as these. It’s all just frivolous and wearing at me so. I spent the night alone with my thoughts, feeling my salty tears stain my cheeks all while replaying the drama from before. This is the number one reason why they will never know about what I do and why I will never let them in to know this side of me. What I dream about and what I am working so hard at achieving; alone. I want to turn those stories I create in my mind’s eye into novels, to put those brilliant words that flash through my brain down onto paper. I have such a love for this, such a passion and I feel like real talent too. When I see those words form something special, when I step back and look at what I’ve created I feel such pride and accomplishment. Something I don’t think I’ve ever felt with anything else I’ve done before. But I feel it every single time I write and that means something.
I know deep down that I will go far. I have such faith in that knowledge that I have sacrificed so much to do what I do because I know, for the first time in this damned miserable life of mine I am doing something right. That I am on the right path. And no matter how bad they make me feel for it I will not give up on this. Because this is where I need to be, what I need to immerse myself in despite their ignorance and complete lack of support. They will never, ever understand. Even when I ‘make it’ and am on TV getting interviewed by Oprah, even if I were to win a Nobel Peace Prize they would still frown upon me. Maybe living life as a multimillionaire in the Hollywood Hills with an award-winning screenplay at the box office might change their minds and then again, maybe not but I don’t care. I am doing this for me, not them.