I have never been brave, or bold, or fearless. Except for a brief moments, fleeting moments, really, when I did really felt fearless.
Sometime, back when I was too young to remember, I must have had dreams and aspirations. Yet, as far as I can remember I have none. I tried to have them, to make plans, to wish for this or that, to set goals based on some aspiration but it never worked out I guess. So it has been years I have none, and life is pretty boring and meaningless.
It is tough for my son to be the one person – or thing – to bind me to life. Most of the time I live indifferent to anything and anyone. Why? I was not meant for that. All I hope for is being a facilitator to my son´s general well being. And when I feel I am not doing it, it is not mere frustration, I am stricken with a sadness that is overwhelming.
I don´t dream of being rich, or having a better paying job; I don´t dream of getting married again and living with someone I love and who loves me in return cause I know I´ve tried it before and it did not work. I don´t dream of owning, of travelling, of being a great scientist or professional. Truth is, I don´t want anything. And I am always expecting some loss, be it financial, emotional, professional. I am so used to being abandoned that it became my default.
You may live with a husband and still be desperately alone all the time: been there.
I had parents who never really cared about anything besides themselves, and who turned their back on me and my sister when they divorced, and moved on to being parents alright to the children of their respective second marriages. We were dead weight, how come we were still hanging around, like ghosts of terrible christmas past.
I lost grandparents whom I loved to sickness, to a car accident, to suicide. I lost them and was left completely alone with a mother unable to love any children, only her spouse.
I was alone and could never depend on anyone for nothing. And when I managed to save money my mother literally took my savings, I lent money to a boyfriend (of almost 8 years), who got the money and left me and never paid me back, I had a husband who treated me like shit, did not work and expected me to not only care for the house, for our son, for him, but also to support it financially “cause I was already used to the stress”.
I have happy memories, of days and nights when I ran from my reality, other memories are bittersweet. But mostly… meh.
Am I the person I meant to be? No, I am not, because I refused to really want, to feel that I deserved and would fight for my dreams, I gave up on having aspirations.
But I move on. I moved to an apartment in a third floor and caught myself thinking if I´d die in the fall. I sat on the sofá, soaked in cold water because of a shitty faulty water heater, wrapped in a towel, and cried. A painful cry, tears which burned my eyes and my cheeks, and I was alone at home otherwise I would have let it ache and burn only in the inside.
Tears don´t solve anything, and I fought the urge to escape life, and decided to face it for just another day.
I am exactly what I was meant to be, not what I wanted. I am nothing.