Gotta move gotta move gotta move...
Anna, why can't you grow up faster?
How I wish you didn't have to... But I can't keep this up much longer.
I have to leave.
I'm escaping for a few days next week, heading down to see Cobalt in Orlando.
But I have to GO.
I love Montreal so much, everywhere I've been and loved has been wonderful, but nothing so alive like Montreal.
Vannes, where downtown is surrounded by a moat and the only way in is by drawbridge (permanently down, of course), and everyone in the streets says hello to you, even to the guy in the fishnet stockings...
Lyon, where people accepted me no matter what popsicle-shade my hair was, London where there were eight million places to go if you couldn't afford a place to crash for the night, Vancouver with the mists envelopped you in a refreshing embrace as you passed through them... Amsterdam where the guy begging change just outside the red light district speaks four different languages, Luxembourg where you can drink beer in castles.
But Montreal is so much more home than any place I've been.
But I have to go. Not now, not yet, and Maria, there'll always be a spot for you chez moi - but I have to go soon.
I have to get away from my parents.
From my mother who accused me of lying and not deserving my 'heritage', from my father who still insists on telling me that "you're as stupid as your mother"... He says he's joking.
I'm not laughing. Never did. I can't stand to hear it anymore.
I don't care if you never loan me your car again, I don't fucking need your charity. But it would be nice sometimes, if the next time yuou call me it's to say something good about what I've done.
And my little sister, spared the brunt of all this, can't leave home. She's worried about them. They're sick, they're dying...
And in the process, they're killing us.
I can't cry anymore. The spot above my cheeks has gone numb from the ache of holding it in, but I can't, I just can't.
I left so damn long ago, I proved it all to myself, school and work, and fuck it but I've got a hell of a career ahead of me for someone who's just barely 23...
And somehow I'm still the worthless child.
Damn. Uhm...
I have to go put my laundry away. I'll be fine in a minute. But fuck - how do they manage this in a half hour of idle conversation?
How is it that every single thing I've learned is wrong and treacherous and shameful? Yes, I'm going to eat bread this passover. No, I don't believe in your god. No, I don't regret turning down pre-med.
Yes, I still think that I'm doing something worthwhile.
Maybe I'm just tired. It's been a long day of running errands and things.
But y'know, sometimes, it really hurts... And if I'm not going to have a family, I'd like it to be somewhere where they can't reach me.
Or maybe I'm just running. I know I am. But there's nothing I can do for them.