November 12, 2011
By Ramona SILVER, Nanticoke, Pennsylvania
Ramona SILVER, Nanticoke, Pennsylvania
6 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Religion is the opium of the masses" Karl Marx

There is nothing to fallback on when you are out there with nothing. The world can be scary, especially to someone who has been sheltered for so long. There is no point in being scared though. Your mother says, “You are not welcome here anymore” That statement is enough to break your heart. You ask her if she loves you and she says, “I love you all the way to God and back.” The only woman whose approval you yearn for does not want you to be apart of her life. So, now you are out there on your own. You are searching for a purpose, a goal a companion. You seem to become more manic as the months pass by. You spend the nights writing feverishly about what you could have been. Sleeping seems pointless to you because if you were to sleep, nothing would be accomplished. You hold a few jobs and pay the bills on time. Everyday consists of random, awkward greetings with strangers and old friends. When you walk down the sidewalk, you avoid peoples’ eyes. You glance down and keep walking, hoping no one will notice you. At work, you hand out pastries to sweet, innocent families. You are around people all day, yet you feel so alone. They say happiness is a choice. If only it were that easy. Back at your apartment, you sit alone on the hardwood floor; an array of writings and paintings sprawled out around you. You write and write because at this point, nothing in life makes sense. You use words, for they are all you have. Maybe this was what was meant to be. All you know you have never longed for a passion this intense. You fill your brain with useless knowledge, hoping that someday it could all mean something. You didn’t end up dying of an overdose like everyone assumed you would. NO, instead you exist on a certain hunger. You crave human touch. The small, inconsistent exchange of baked goods and dollar bills is nothing compared to the love you once thought you needed. Now, you realize that even if you had someone, it would not be enough. At night, when the shop is closed and your small apartment is secure, you write. Writing is all you know. You smell of menthol and are revved up on caffeine. YOU never dreamed of a life this lonely, yet exceedingly full. You step outside, heading to the bakery, taking each step cautiously like a mercenary fulfilling their duty. You pass her by and she doesn’t even know. Years have passed since you last talked. Did you expect her to recognize you? Would you have spoken up? What would she have thought of you now? Then, suddenly you realize none of it matters. It never did. You never did. Now, you know, no matter what you do, you will NEVER be enough.

The author's comments:
I wrote this about a relationship between a mother and a daughter or lack of.

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