Disclaimer: Not mine.
I don't think she'd notice me at all if I weren't screaming.
Everyone seems to think that this is just how I am. Loud and demanding and occasionally helpful. Easily overlooked. Sometimes it's even helpful that they feel that way. It saves a lot on explanations. And Maureen certainly takes it for granted. But then, she's always taken everything about me for granted.
I look at myself and hate the person, the shrew, that I've become. I hear my strident voice, feel my face screw up in anger, and want to just scream. How can anyone be worth this? How can I love her when I hate what I've done to myself just to make her see me standing here?
But I do love her. Even with her eyes roaming for her next victim, the next in line to dazzle with her smile and her energy. Even when I'm supposed to be so damn intelligent with my Harvard degree and job at the law firm. I'm not smart. If I were smart I'd tell her to turn that megawatt smile onto herself as I walk for the final time out that apartment door.
Somehow, though, I find myself roped in. Surrounded by the people who are her friends, situated in her neighborhood. Playing nice with her ex-boyfriend every other minute while the world revolves around her. While playing the dutiful shadow until she decides to tout me out as a shining example of how very bohemian her lifestyle and choices are.
Shadows, however, don't scream and curse and stomp their feet and threaten to walk away and never look back. So perhaps the 'dutiful' part is a bit off the mark. When her eyes stray one too many times, when our personalities clash to such an extreme that I can take no more. Something has to give, and nearly invariably it's me. Me who starts it, and me who comes crawling back to the loft or the Life to put it back together.
Today the screaming stops.
Today I discover if Maureen even notices that her newest 'Pookie' exists in the same reality. Hell, today I discover if any of the people here who are supposed to care notice at all. In a twisted sort of humor, I assume that Mark will notice. That hurts too. Being pressed up close and personally on a near daily basis with the original 'Pookie'. And yet I can't help but appreciate even the small morsels of compassion and understanding he tosses my way. He's been here. Survived the fallout, even.
How pathetic is it when a college dropout, unemployed starving artist can get by better than me? Toss that onto the list of grievances, the list of wounds that need to be bandaged.
Yes, it hurts. But you know what they say.
Life is Pain.
A/N: Remember me? *smiles* This one didn't come out nearly as easily or smoothly as the other. But I have an idea, and Joanne had to have her say before I could move on. Flame away, up next is Mark. And hopefully he'll be better. Ah, so good to be back.
I don't think she'd notice me at all if I weren't screaming.
Everyone seems to think that this is just how I am. Loud and demanding and occasionally helpful. Easily overlooked. Sometimes it's even helpful that they feel that way. It saves a lot on explanations. And Maureen certainly takes it for granted. But then, she's always taken everything about me for granted.
I look at myself and hate the person, the shrew, that I've become. I hear my strident voice, feel my face screw up in anger, and want to just scream. How can anyone be worth this? How can I love her when I hate what I've done to myself just to make her see me standing here?
But I do love her. Even with her eyes roaming for her next victim, the next in line to dazzle with her smile and her energy. Even when I'm supposed to be so damn intelligent with my Harvard degree and job at the law firm. I'm not smart. If I were smart I'd tell her to turn that megawatt smile onto herself as I walk for the final time out that apartment door.
Somehow, though, I find myself roped in. Surrounded by the people who are her friends, situated in her neighborhood. Playing nice with her ex-boyfriend every other minute while the world revolves around her. While playing the dutiful shadow until she decides to tout me out as a shining example of how very bohemian her lifestyle and choices are.
Shadows, however, don't scream and curse and stomp their feet and threaten to walk away and never look back. So perhaps the 'dutiful' part is a bit off the mark. When her eyes stray one too many times, when our personalities clash to such an extreme that I can take no more. Something has to give, and nearly invariably it's me. Me who starts it, and me who comes crawling back to the loft or the Life to put it back together.
Today the screaming stops.
Today I discover if Maureen even notices that her newest 'Pookie' exists in the same reality. Hell, today I discover if any of the people here who are supposed to care notice at all. In a twisted sort of humor, I assume that Mark will notice. That hurts too. Being pressed up close and personally on a near daily basis with the original 'Pookie'. And yet I can't help but appreciate even the small morsels of compassion and understanding he tosses my way. He's been here. Survived the fallout, even.
How pathetic is it when a college dropout, unemployed starving artist can get by better than me? Toss that onto the list of grievances, the list of wounds that need to be bandaged.
Yes, it hurts. But you know what they say.
Life is Pain.
A/N: Remember me? *smiles* This one didn't come out nearly as easily or smoothly as the other. But I have an idea, and Joanne had to have her say before I could move on. Flame away, up next is Mark. And hopefully he'll be better. Ah, so good to be back.