Smiles and Cries.

Tonight, my mom picked me up from work, instead of me finding a random ride home like I usually do, and I actually TALKED to her for the first time in a long long time. It was bittersweet. She alluded to the fact that she knows somewhat the extent of the hellacious life I have lived thus far, even though she still hasn't even gotten beneath the water level of the iceberg. I apologized for being such a cold, heartless, careless person during the months of February until September, and that if I had the chance, I would erase that time span and apply a fresh coat of satin white paint over it. I hear it from people all the time, but having your own mother tell you that she has to remind herself that I am only twenty is a very humbling, sad thing to hear. I'm not her little baby anymore, and whats worse: she's already accepted it. I accepted it at sixteen and have been essentially independent in most ways since. But until recently, I realized that material independence is nowhere near comparable in substance to gradual maturation independence. I ostracized myself from my family at sixteen. No gradual distancing. Thats why I am SO good at doing it to the seemingly inconsequential people now in my life. Not proud of it, but my actions and state of mind became the fiber of my being, and with that fiber, the person who types these words today was woven. I would give absolutely anything and everything back to redo years 14-19. I hurt lots of people in that time. I guess I can only type my sympathies and haunt myself in thought for years to come, and slowly, gradually, smile and cry at my own reflection.