Bindicanfly’s Weblog

I’m really depressed every time I come home because I hate that I don’t live here anymore. But I also don’t like being here. It doesn’t really make sense to me. I feel really bad for living with Jalal and not choosing to come home like other people. I don’t know, I always thought I was coming home, it just worked out this way. And they are all so happy to see me, and grateful that I was willing to take an overnight greyhound to see them for just four days. It makes me feel even worse. My mom bought all this food for me, including my favorite kind of popsicles, and they all make time for me in their busy lives. It just feels so high pressure, and I want to tell them, “it’s still just me. Don’t you remember? We fought all the time!” They treat me too nicely, I just feel like I’m going to let them down. I am so neurotic about trying to please people, sometimes it makes me sick.

The worst part about everything is talking to my brother. I never knew he wanted to spend time with me, I always just felt like his annoying big sister. I always thought I kind of didn’t really matter to him, but I think that in a way he looks up to me, or if not that, he at least wants to spend time with me, and I left him behind, in the web of parent stress. When I call him I’m always surprised at how long he engages me in conversation, even when he is already doing something else, and when I come home to visit he says, “I’ll go wherever Mallon goes” and it’s just so sweet that it makes me want to die for not just staying home and being his friend. He is such a cool kid and really, when am I ever going to have a friend who understands what I mean about everything as much as he does. We were raised under the same contexts and its like, impossible for anyone else to have as close of a connection with me I feel like. It’s weird how meaningful family connections can be. I’m being overly dramatic, I know, but it really makes me sad.

I find myself doing that thing my dad does, where he tells you how he feels over and over to passively pass guilt on to someone else. I kept trying to justify to my brother why I wasn’t coming home. We were in the car and he just didn’t say anything, so I kept talking to fill the silence, and finally I asked him if he was mad I wasn’t coming home, and he said something like “I wish you could visit for longer, but I know you have to start work so it isn’t your fault” and I felt really bad, because it is my fault. If I was a big enough person to put my family first, and let stupid romantic relationships sit for now, I would feel so much better, but I’m not, and i know I won’t. It’s so selfish of me to put Jalal first, when my family gave me so much love for so many years. I know they want me to come home, and it’s like, the more years go by the less easy it will be for me to see them, the more involved Jalal and I get, and the more responsibilities I get, the worse it will be. I should have just given them this last summer. But my family has social lives, and I wouldn’t have a social life at all if I stayed here. It doesn’t make sense for me to stay in that sense. Man. I don’t even know.

Anyways, Greyhound is a creepy crazy institution with no rules! I hate it. Two guys got arrested on the bus last night for being drunk and stealing potato chips and it was just ridiculous. Then, when I finally got on the bus after almost not getting on because they overbooked it, I ended up sitting next to this large lesbian lady reading erotica, and it was awkward because she kept overlapping out of her seat and touching me on accident.

I want to be able to hang out with my friends this week but I don’t feel like I have time. I bought some liquor for us, and I hope we have the time to enjoy it, although it seems that tensions run high within all of us, because when we hung out briefly today I felt like it didn’t go so well. I’m sad that my best friend is leaving the country. I won’t see her for so long and I will worry about her and miss her.

I should sleep. Next week I have to wake up at 6:45 AM everyday and I don’t know how I will do it since that has been closer to my bedtime than my waking time for almost three months now. I hate sleeping at night here though. It’s so eerie to be here, what was once my home and the site of my childhood, I feel like there are ghosts of my past all over and it makes me feel sticky and icky inside.