The dramatic or potentially egotistical thought comes to me tonight that I have caused such historic events, that somehow I willed this into the world.
My grandfather died
My grandfather died last summer. Unlike so many today who weren’t afforded the opportunity to be with their dying loved ones, I had a chance. Is there a non-cliche way to say I blew it? To say that I was so afraid, and that the easy momentum of busyness would carry me through the next few months. At the time, exuding false importance was much more appealing than watching him deteriorate. A man I held with so much regard that eventually we became strangers. I sat on the kitchen floor of his house one day petting my dog but really trying to listen in on a conversation he was having with my mom. “I don’t know anything about my granddaughter.” He knew I was sitting there.
Months after his passing, and I found myself by the lake where there was air and space to fill up with my own. I don’t remember exact words, just how, as I screamed, I would pause for a moment to soak up snot with my sleeves and check my shoulder for potential path-goers.
TW: I killed someone
I went to therapy for the first time this year. I hated it. The man at the front desk was rude:
“The only time available tomorrow is this”
“Oh, I have class then. What about the next day?”
“No,” I waited for him to keep going, because you know, he’s the one with the list of availabilities. Silence. No glance up at me – eyes on a screen that he wouldn’t read aloud. I kept going:
“…Okay, what about the next day?”
“We aren’t open then.” We go through every single day of the week before arriving at sometime the following week. Maybe that’s normal, and I just didn’t like him. He looked bored out of his mind. He looked like he gave no shits about confidentiality or discretion – qualities I would have expected from someone in his position, you know, working with students that need psychological services and all that. Maybe, I’m just being judgmental though. Regardless, I remember our interactions with annoyance. I wish I had been curt with him. Instead, I returned to the chair furthest away from everyone else, plopped my bag on the ground so that its noticeably green shell was not noticeable or memorable. A girl from class recognized me, but we ignored each other. Everyone in that place avoided each other, but we did it with a level of curiosity: even with eyes were averted, we still took moments to assess each other’s company. I would join in on this aversion-curiosity game, though I sometimes copped out and deleted emails on my phone.
I don’t think therapy is bad, but personally, I hated it. I went to therapy for one thing and one thing only: insurance. I needed official approval for my plan from someone with a doctorate and licensing – which for the record, I got – in the event that things went awry – which they did.
My therapist was soft spoken. She’d coo at me and praise me. She called me nice, empathetic, self-aware. I rejected each compliment. I had killed someone, and she called me nice.
I learned by accident how he did it, where he did it, and when (thank you Reddit).
Speaking of Reddit: I joined a new community.
I’m part of a cohort of 20-something-year-olds trying to build momentum, but I’m afraid to finish that sentence. Building momentum towards what?
I don’t write many creative pieces anymore. No new poems or short stories. Shamefully, I must admit I have resorted to re-reading old drafts and being impressed with what I felt were signs of potential or “natural talent” that would eventually go un-nurtured. School is starting soon though, so the falsified self-importance will return. And fast – it’s a big recruiting semester.
Wait…I missed it. How did you will pandemonium into 2020?
I dunno. These were just some thoughts. Wasn’t planning on sharing them. I wonder if this is the thing that brings my demise in 20 years because someone wants to write an expose on me and destroy my career.