the things i think no one knows
by amnesiac
(Everything Else, 1171 views) - 2/25/04
(recorded 2/25/04 @ 5:50:32 PM)
My mom always asked. If she overheard I had an essay due in some class or another, she would ask to read it. When the time came to apply for colleges, she asked to read one of my essays. I always told her that I would show it to her. Eventually. Eventually never came. So a few weeks into college my mom asked about my writing class. She asked if she could read my essay. I told her that she could, eventually. I turned in the paper. She asked again. I told her I wanted to get it back first, so I could edit one last time. I received my grade for the essay, but not the paper itself. She asked again. I said I needed the actual essay. The essay came back. She asked once more. I edited it, without actually reading it, and sent it a few days later, in a blank email. She said she loved it. I believe her, it’s one of those essays that only a mother could love. Now, months later, I pull up that essay and take a look:

“In the first grade I dropped a ceramic pitcher on the tile of our classroom. It shattered, leaving remnants of the ceramic covering the floor. I cried the entire walk home. I cried for every little thing, which only added to the humiliation of embarrassing situations. As a result, I taught myself not to cry. No one else cried in similar situations. I reasoned that crying was abnormal. Whenever I felt like crying, I would try to hold back. I thought if I held my feelings long enough, I would not feel them anymore.”

Of course, my mom probably knew all these things about me. She raised me. As far as I know though, she had never found out about that ceramic pitcher. She never found out about me crying hysterically in my dance class. I never told her who I was dating or when we broke up. She always knew when something had happened; sometimes she would even ask what had happened. I just never told her. When she wanted me to talk to her, she’d mention the relationships my other friends had with their mothers. I would say that nothing was wrong and run to my room until I was sure she was finished asking questions. I think she was like me when she was younger. She tells me how she wishes she had been closer to her mother. She’s trying to stop me from making that mistake.
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Notes:
I've been that way with my parents too... I just... didn't open up that much. I liked your musing, but it could definitely use a better title...

   [disillusioned (J :: M) 2/25/04 7:46 PM]



heh. just checking... title changing momentarily.

   [amnesiac (J) 2/26/04 10:35 AM]



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