Why does my mother feel the unrelenting need to air my dirty laundry just as she’s opened the kitchen window? Why does she feel an incessant desire to raise her issues with my apparent waste of space persona when the window panes are pulled open?
When there may be unexpected ears eavesdropping or an audience in attendance? Then again such revelations would no longer be of astonishment at this stage for any passersby since she’s been carrying on in this way for months now. I just don’t understand why issues need to be voiced, and voiced loudly at that, only when an opening to the outside world has been made. As if she is seeking an audience. Fishing for another being out there to pay witness to the madness even.
And because of this I suddenly feel completely insecure here, afraid to poke my head out of these walls in fear of being noticed, accused and judged by those who’ve overheard my transgressions. And when I pull out of the driveway in my little Honda, I bow my head down, slightly weighed down anyway by the ginormous black sunglasses I wear to obscure my face, like some Hollywood starlet escaping from the glaring flashes of the paparazzi. I don’t like to venture out there anymore and if I do I make a point to tiptoe around and whisper in case anyone else is out there fretting in their yards. I feel ashamed and at times maybe even embarrassed but for what?
I don’t really know.
Perhaps it’s the way her words contort to make me sound like the most vile human being on this Earth. Or how I am such a loser, lagging behind others and that worth is purely judged on appearances. And maybe now I am actually starting to believe her lies, feel them trickling down my spine, taking root and causing chaos from within.