The day has come. The day we unplug mom's stuff. Just a few hours away. I lay awake beside Kyle, he's still asleep. I gaze up at the ceiling. I don't feel anything still. I said what I needed to say to mom yesterday. I doubt she heard me. She's gone, in my opinion. She was gone tuesday, after it happened. I could be wrong, but given all we've been told, I know I'm not. I looked into her eyes when I spoke to her. They're different. They've been different, but this time I got a close up look of them. She's not there. I know I should feel something, but I don't.
The only person that died that I actually cared about, was someone I never knew personally, and that was Chester Bennington, of Linkin Park, a band I grew up listening to. I still listen to their stuff, but I have no idea if they're going to continue making music. I cried for Chester, but for my mom? For my grandpa? Nah. I'm fine. Grandpa died around grade 8. I only missed a day of school because I was sick, not because I was in mourning over him. His death didn't affect me.
Finally, I get up and change my shirt, putting on deodorant. I go downstairs to grab some breakfast. Kyle comes down as I'm making myself some grits.
"Want some?" I offer, my back to him.
"Mm," he mumbles, I hear him take a seat in the kitchen chair.
I put the bowl I'm currently working on in the microwave and get out another bowl. I give him the first bowl and then make the second. He shuffles around the kitchen to fix his as he likes them and I wait for the microwave to finish. After it does, I take it out and add a generous amount of sugar. He wrinkles his nose at me but doesn't comment. We eat breakfast in silence and then wash our respective dishes. He goes back upstairs to get dressed and I follow but to the bathroom.
By the time I finish, he's ready to go.
The drive is punctuated by music from my new Hollywood Undead cd. When we get there, the people that wanted to be there, are. A woman from hospice comes and talks to us, taking us to the waiting room so she can be heard better. I refrain from rolling my eyes and just listen in boredom. Finally though, we go back to her room. Nurses are in and out, aware that we're ready to pull the plug. Slowly, things are turned off and away. I am made to stand next to mom on the bed, I'm urged to put a hand on her and so I do. A chaplain comes in and prays before anything is removed. I resist the urge to roll my eyes again and wait for her to finish.
The tubes are removed. Nothing appears to have changed. We wait two hours, and still her body lives. It sounds as though she's merely asleep and the family talks to her as if she is just sleeping. I roll my eyes at them and leave at the earliest opportunity. Hospice will be around to take her to their facility today. I have no idea how those things work. I'm hungry however and so is Kyle.
So we leave, in search of food from the house. There isn't much but we make do.
We play video games for a few hours before watching more mindless cartoons before bed.
In the morning, I still don't feel anything. Class bores me, but there's a homework assignment to do. I do it as I sit there in class. I'll have to print it out and shit like that, but otherwise it's done. I know I have to go to see her in hospice, but I really don't want to. It's not like it will change anything if I'm there or not. Nothing's going to change what is.
Another day passes. She's still in hospice. Doing fine, mostly. One lung however, isn't doing well and so they can't turn her on her right side. So. Things are progressing downhill more or less. She is more or less stable however. In my opinion, it's just a matter of time when her shell expires. Why it's taking so long, I have no idea. She, Sharon, my mother, is gone. There's no escaping that fact. Despite everyone who protests and claims she's going to wake up and be fine.
I keep my mouth shut around the family. Last time I spoke up and gave my opinion, I got treated like a fucking piraha. I'm not fucking dealing with their bullshit again. I know what I believe. If I'm wrong, good, if not, as usual, fine. It is what it is. I'm sick of it. No one is moving forward. They're stuck because they think she's in limbo herself. They want her to wake up and be fine. They're fucking idealists. And I'm a fucking realist. It's infuriating anymore. I want to be alone. I'm just tired of being around people.
Kyle is great, of course, but I want to be alone. I need my solitude. Being around people so often is giving me a fucking headache. Being alone is better. At least then I can choose who I'm talking to. I can choose to talk to Kyle, Kenny, or Cartman. Or anyone else. I'm not forced to interact with people I don't give two shits about and that don't give two shits about me.
Gods, when I told Kyle about mom he was like "Don't do anything stupid."
Because I've been suicidal. I am suicidal. But I was just like "Of course not, I don't care." Stressing the fact that I don't care. But as usual, I'm not believed.
It's annoying though. I know what I feel. And it's not a damn thing. I want to be alone because I'm a solitary person. I want to drink because I like the taste of the alcohol I buy. I want to game because it's fun, in some games, I'm trying to experience a particular element of the game that I haven't before. I want to get through school so I can get on with the next phase of school.
I just want things to move, everyone is stuck because she appears to be still living. Because her body is continuing.
I'm just done.