Sunday, November 07, 2010

Freefall

I have a few stones sitting in the window sill in my bedroom. They're catching some sun in order to purify them. Sounds stupid, but I need something physical around my neck to help me feel grounded. Primus knows, anything will help at this point. Hell, it can't hurt, I know that much.

Thursday night, Prime and I saw our friend Shawn. He came bearing Bumblebee goodness; namely three of the $41.99 CostCo exclusive Battle Ops Bumblebee sets. After we settled up, the three of us went out to dinner together.

I went ahead and told Shawn my brand new family situation. After I told him, Prime suggested I take a sip of his frozen margarita to help calm my nerves. He could tell I was pretty upset by everything.

I didn't take a sip. I had to stop myself from emptying Prime's glass.

Thankfully, I had the brains to stick to soda when it came to my dinner. If I had gotten anything alcoholic, I don't think I'd have stopped at one damn drink. I probably would have gotten so damned drunk I wouldn't have been able to see straight. (Though I'm sure Prime would've stopped me.)

I'm past the weirded-out phase. Now all I want to do is lay in bed and fucking cry all day.

I think I prefer the weirded-out phase. The urge to start sobbing while I'm standing at my register doesn't feel so great, believe me.

I've been asking myself questions, questions I never wanted to ask myself, questions I really don't want to hear the answers to. It's not pleasant. I wouldn't wish this slag on anyone.

I have my brother's address. He knows I exist. I should write him, or at least try but every time I try and think of anything to say, I freeze. I don't know what the hell to say.

I can fill an entire notebook with story ideas but I have no idea what the hell to say to my own damn brother. Primus, I feel fucking useless some days.

So help me Primus, if I ever see another one of those "Life: What a Beautiful Choice" commercials, I will send my goddamn fist through the television. Because the way I'm feeling right now isn't beautiful at all. It's hell.

--Weasel, still wanting to cry.
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2 comments:

Anonymous said...

All I can say is to take your time...

~daiAtlas

Monday, November 08, 2010 1:39:00 PM
Weasel said...

Yeah, I think I have known. Mom said some things that made me doubt the whole only child thing. But even though I pretty much had ideas, getting the confirmation still comes as a helluva shock.

My new brother is three years older than I am. Mom had me when she was 20, IIRC. Meaning she would have been around 17 when this happened. And still living at home.

I'm thinking that this wasn't her decision, per se. I'm thinking my grandparents had a lot to do with it. And if that's the case, it might have been the smartest thing they ever did: my grandfather was an abusive alcoholic who used everyone in the family as a fucking punching bag.

I can honestly say that I have no memories of that man. He bit the bullet (literally) when I was 2. I am not complaining.

I remember watching Unsolved Mysteries when I was younger and they'd have the "kid given up for adoption and re-finds long lost family" stories. You'd always see the happy half-siblings hugging and all that. You know, they don't show you the "before" crap, when you're asking yourself, "Was I mistake? Did Mom really want to keep me?" It ain't pleasant, I tell you. Self-doubt is a bitch.

I'm getting better. I'm still stuck as to what the hell to say in my letter to my new sibling. I'm thinking a general "this is who I am" but I'm kinda torn at where I should start. =/

Thursday, November 11, 2010 5:55:00 PM

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