How I Met Jane

January 18th, 2017

“You’re going to regret this,” she said. That’s all she cared about saying. Nothing mattered to her but my wrong doing. Nothing mattered to her but the tone I was crying in.

“You’re going to regret this.”

Through the tears and raised voices I couldn’t understand this. How can she tell me this? I’m asking for an ear. I’m asking for her to listen to me.

That’s all I wanted.

“You’re going to regret this.”

These were my comforting words. These were my thoughts to keep me going through this hell.

I knew I shouldn’t have asked yet I still did. I just wanted to talk. I wanted to talk so bad. By far the worst thing is being alone with your own thoughts. The sound of your own quiet.

She continued to yell at me in a voice that I haven’t heard since we lived with my dad – I bring out the best in people.

“One day you will know the why. You will know why you are so angry. You will know!” She didn’t want to hear anything anymore. She went on how she wasn’t going to feel sorry for me, that I didn’t have a right to be tired at 26, not even at 27 that crept in closer this year.

I had no right? That was all I had left. Once you hit rock bottom, there are so few things that a man holds on to, rights being one of them. I would be damned if these were to be taken from me as well. This was all I had left.

I began to mock and sarcastically bring up my sister’s needs and brother’s, and how wonderfully they are treated. How we can’t bring this up to my sister because it would hurt her, and not my brother…oh no. The sarcasm continued. I began to shake because I can’t believe I was saying this. I held it in so long. It had nowhere else to go.

“Because this is your fight! This is mine. And this is yours!

“You don’t think I’m tired? I’m tired. I have a right to be tired,” she continued.

Emphasizing that the right was hers, not mine.  Again, I had no right. I was just tired. I didn’t want harm. I didn’t want to fight. Why couldn’t I be tired? Her bringing up her own issues just reissued how much of a loser I was compared to the rest. I never felt so small and big at the same time. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

She looked at me in disgust. She looked at me the way she used to.

When all I wanted more than ever was the comfort of my mom.

I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I didn’t want to cry anymore. I just wanted to be tired in my mom’s embrace.

“You’re going to regret this.”

That’s what I got.


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