There’s this fear of mine that lingers just above my chest always.
A fear of what?
Some days, it’s that I’ll never be good enough – trapped in mediocrity and contentment.
If you know your life is mediocre, you will never be truly happy. I don’t want to spend my life constantly waiting for the one big thing to happen.
Like living from one weekend to the next?
Exactly. Planning my holidays with meticulous detail because I must relax. I need to have a good time and make memorable memories, taking staged photos, forcing the kids who hate me to pretend they don’t.
Not every family is messed up, you know.
Every family is screwed. Some just in more socially acceptable ways.
I sometimes wonder if I love my parents. I wonder if they disappear, would I really miss them or would it just be an inconvenience?
Like who would pay the rent?
And buy the groceries.
See. Your little model family is a prime example. Your parents sent you to private school; your mom insisted you have your hair cut every six to eight weeks; you went to barbeques and pool parties – and you don’t even know if you love them.
I don’t think I’ve ever said it.
Everyone says it. Even if you didn’t, it doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
I don’t feel it. Not like I do with my sister and my best friend.
Maybe it’s because you have a choice with them.
I have to love my sister.
No, you don’t.
Yes, I do. Of course, I do.
No, you don’t. She’s just a sibling. But your parents, they made you. You are them. Literally, 50/50. Even if you hated them or didn’t know them at all. You would despise them if they were complete strangers because you know you’re supposed to love them, but you have nothing to love. They’re a part of you.
So, I’m 0% me?
We’re all 0% us. 0% trapped in mediocrity and contentment, pretending we’re anything but.