An Odd Child.

As told by my momma.

Your brother never played alone. He could have all the toys and books and video games in the entire world in a room for himself and he would still never play alone. He'd throw tantrums, pleading me to stay with him. Your brother always need companionship.

But you. You were different. Put you in a room, and you'd find something to keep you entertained. You'd find something, anything to play with, to bounce around, to draw or carve into walls, or just to look at. Once, I came back to find you with your back on the floor, arms in the air, toy pony in your tiny hands, telling yourself a story. When other kids came and took your toys away from you, you'd look at them with your head tilted in your own peculiar way and blink. Sad, you were, but you never screamed or cried. You would carry on. On to the next one; that was your father's motto for you. You were an odd child. You never once cried for me if I left you alone. You never once chased me. You, you are your own keeper.

And now you and your siblings are older. Your brother, he's gone and come back. He will always be near me. He will always come back to me. Your sister, she has never once left me. But you, you have left the one who nursed and reared you and continued your life without me. Just like when you were a child. Your life continued even when I was no longer in your presence.

I wonder sometimes if you are ever lonely or if you ever need anything from your father and me. You never ask for anything. I wonder if you hate us. Or if worse, if you have forgotten us. You are such an odd, odd child.

Now you're leaving me again to go back the thousand miles to where you came from. You come and go as you please, and it breaks my heart but remember daughter, I will always love you and you will always have a place in my heart, no matter how far your life continues without me.

Do You Want Me to Stop You?

Love is enough. That's what I tell myself. It should be the driving force to do something unconditionally for another person or yourself. Have I been misguided all these years by my own words. Or maybe these are the neccessary stimuli needed to help me better understand myself.

Do you want to be stopped? The thoughts that possess your mind late at night, would you want me to be stay with you while they are at large? Do you want me to protect you from your fears and anger? Do you want me to shield you from such lonesome thoughts?

Do you want me to talk with you, now? Do you want to talk with me now? Do you want me to stop you from the downward spiral towards loneliness? Do you want me to keep loving you? Or do you want to be by yourself, engrossed with your thoughts?

"But I'm alone on my throne, all these witches. I came this way all this way just to say, this time won't you save me, this time won't you save me. Baby I can feel myself giving up."

Or do you not need my saving?