Fifteen minutes away, and yet we haven’t spoken in over two years.
Clueless, question once asked, received erringly, followed by a devastating blow of misunderstanding. Speechlessness ever since. Colleagues recognize my recent lack of witty charm and light.
Rumblings of hurtful nastiness are leaked to me. Bipolar disorder is mumbled as a possibility for her character. Leaving another’s inability to cope, but holding onto reliably militant expectations, elsewhere. There is comfort in knowing what to do.
Sleeping on the narrow fold-out brings rest, peace, family that asks no questions. We’re here. That’s all he needs. We may be roommates one day. I can’t tell. I just don’t want him hurting himself. Do I have to jackhammer it into his head that he’s not a failure? Probably.
Others have likely thought the same of me. But I’m still here. Always learning new things I didn’t think I would need to know. Improving my situation takes time and patience. I have that patience, despite my Gemini status. In the two years spent, I’ve learned there’s two types of Geminis; Me, and her. Pragmatic, and flaky. (After all, how long can someone spend renovating a house)
We used to relate quite well. My ‘Sister-from-another-Mister’. The loneliness from what’s been lost is palpable. I used to think time would heal the rift. But I put hope in the rear-view mirror long ago. Doesn’t matter anymore that my ‘witness’ name is on a marriage certificate. An eyeroll is my only response to the outrage she feels when I’ve failed to acknowledge birthdays of those I’m not even allowed to see.
That didn’t stop him from coming over, at my request. Or, from me baking his birthday cake, and the smile I received when he opened his present. Within 24 hours, he’d accidently spilled coffee on it. (Best kind of liquid ‘baptism’ in my book)
The new prescription I’m on will go further in my attitude adjustment. Maybe it’ll even enhance the pragmatism. As for the patience, it only lasts so long when there’s pizza in the oven.
Clueless, question once asked, received erringly, followed by a devastating blow of misunderstanding. Speechlessness ever since. Colleagues recognize my recent lack of witty charm and light.
Rumblings of hurtful nastiness are leaked to me. Bipolar disorder is mumbled as a possibility for her character. Leaving another’s inability to cope, but holding onto reliably militant expectations, elsewhere. There is comfort in knowing what to do.
Sleeping on the narrow fold-out brings rest, peace, family that asks no questions. We’re here. That’s all he needs. We may be roommates one day. I can’t tell. I just don’t want him hurting himself. Do I have to jackhammer it into his head that he’s not a failure? Probably.
Others have likely thought the same of me. But I’m still here. Always learning new things I didn’t think I would need to know. Improving my situation takes time and patience. I have that patience, despite my Gemini status. In the two years spent, I’ve learned there’s two types of Geminis; Me, and her. Pragmatic, and flaky. (After all, how long can someone spend renovating a house)
We used to relate quite well. My ‘Sister-from-another-Mister’. The loneliness from what’s been lost is palpable. I used to think time would heal the rift. But I put hope in the rear-view mirror long ago. Doesn’t matter anymore that my ‘witness’ name is on a marriage certificate. An eyeroll is my only response to the outrage she feels when I’ve failed to acknowledge birthdays of those I’m not even allowed to see.
That didn’t stop him from coming over, at my request. Or, from me baking his birthday cake, and the smile I received when he opened his present. Within 24 hours, he’d accidently spilled coffee on it. (Best kind of liquid ‘baptism’ in my book)
The new prescription I’m on will go further in my attitude adjustment. Maybe it’ll even enhance the pragmatism. As for the patience, it only lasts so long when there’s pizza in the oven.
