Now, they will go their separate ways:
My dad is moving to Manhattan, with his unusually young girlfriend and her rabbit named Bill.
My mom will be living in some old house in Bethlehem, one that is far too spacious her lonely self.
I'll be living in Gela, far far away from anything and anyone I have any connection to.
I'll live my life through words and letters composed to those overseas in America.
Most posts have become boring accounts of the days happenings. Whyohwhyohwhyohwhy can't I string together any coherent, meaningful sentences? Everything I write and say and think is stale and tarnished and old and..bland.
My dog is making cute grunting sounds behind me, on the newly polished wooden floors.He is dissatisfied with his surroundings. As am I.
I want something more, you know? I want to be something, and do something different and thrilling. I don't want to be famous, or rich. Goodness no. I just want to be important to somebody. I want to be wanted and appreciated.
I want someone to need me.
Not in a sexual way. Not at all!
I think my motherly instincts are forever in over-drive. I love to dote upon my little dog, and my little cat, and every small being who enters my life.
I ignore it. I pretend it doesn't exist.
Oh, all that I know,
There's nothing here to run from,
Everybody here's got somebody to lean on.
