The Urge

Standard

She had been living her life in a daze, twisting and turning with the motions as if in a a black sea of doubt and failure. She had people who claimed to love her, she had a beautiful daughter, and a decent job. She attempted to consume her misery by focusing on others and their happiness, but still, something was missing. She worked hours upon hours only to find no gratitude or growth in her path, but that was okay, because at least she had a job. She wasn’t homeless, yet. She wasn’t hopeless, yet.

She found someone who could lift her spirits, much like her daughter had been able to do, since birth. Then she found something different inside of her, something she couldn’t explain. Always analyzing, always fearful, doubtful, creating issues out of nothing. Creating issues out of something. So where does this leave her? Is it better to over analyze moments, actions, or lack there of…Or is it better to assume everything is fine until it blows up in her face? Again.

She could feel herself unraveling, coming undone. She was changing before her eyes, no longer caring about anyone else but her daughter. She didn’t care about what her parents thought, or siblings, or family…In fact she was one comment away from putting them all in their place. Holding up a mirror so they can see themselves, so they can realize how fucked up they are. So fucked up that anytime they dared to pinpoint her faults, she just laughed.

One morning, she woke up and began her day as she usually did. Convincing herself that it would be a better day, hiding her fears and insecurities behind makeup as she always has. Brushing her hair while in deep thought, planning out her day. She looks at her daughter, asleep and so peaceful, remembering a happier time and hoping her daughter never has to suffer. Every time she looks at her, her eyes swell up with tears; sometimes from sadness, others from joy and admiration. She looks away and begins to dress.

She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and looks away, never being able to make eye contact for reasons she still can’t seem to unfold. She decides that maybe that’s the problem, what is she so scared of? And then she looked in the mirror, staring deeply into her own eyes.

Lost.

Where are you? Where are you? She searches. She closes her eyes and then opens them again. Ah…There. There are you are. Hi. It’s been a while.

Advertisements

About amorefado

I am a mother of a gorgeous, intelligent, 7 year old daughter. I was raised in the Central Valley, California. My parents are immigrants from the Azores and I speak Portuguese (as well as Spanish) fluently. I've grown a lot in the last 4 years and I plan on doing a lot more of that. I love to laugh and make people laugh. I'm scatter brained. I'm 27, and I'm on a journey to find myself. I'm also here to entertain you with all of my randomness. You will love my posts or hate my posts, either way I write for myself. I am infatuated with music and unicorns (I own socks people, socks). I'm a huge asshole who loves everyone and cries about things that probably don't matter to anyone else.

One response »

  1. You keep the reader held until the very last world…girl don’t ever stop..you have not a gift, but ‘the’ gift, the only one you need to be a damn good writer if that’s your goal..you a natural storyteller…and the beauty of that is…you are telling a real story…yours. Katie.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s