06:35 Nov 15 2017
Times Read: 378
There are only eight of us left. My family I partially grew up with. That is on my mom's side. On my dad's side, I did not grow up with or really know his cousins, but he was an only child, and I was his only child, although I have a half brother on my mom's side. And my dad's mother was an only child. So the people I grew up with on that side (my dad and my grandparents) have been gone for years. It's just strange to think that there are only eight left on my mom's side, including me. And none of us have children. We all decided, separately, never to have kids. Also strange that I have never fit with them. I always took more after my dad's side. So we are the last ones.
I might have written about this before, but I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I'm so far away from them, and I have no money to travel to visit. The strangest part is that I don't really have a desire to visit. I would like to see the places again, and see what memories come up. Maybe I'm hoping to find evidence of happiness. I don't know. I don't think they really care, and maybe they assume I don't care. I know I don't like the way they treat me. I simply cannot stand it anymore. That must be where the lack of desire to visit comes from. But I keep thinking about them, and about family in general. I feel so alone most of the time. Yet I know being with them would not help with that. I'm glad I have friends, but I still spend so much time alone. I like alone time, but I think I get too much.
And I feel like something is going to happen, but I don't know what. I think that's probably just my constant anxiety speaking, but I feel it hanging over me like a dark cloud. I feel like I'm seven again, in some ways. Not a good feeling. Maybe that's where this unnamed fear comes from. Experience. Because this time, in some ways, reminds me of that time, I am expecting something to happen.
COMMENTS
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Minde
07:06 Nov 15 2017
I'm sorry