I trust this site

After a surprisingly nerve-wrecking month, give or take, I seem to realize that this site doesn’t have much people interested in me. To others, that may be a bit doubtful or even upsetting. but for me its superb news. i can actually be alone and write about myself without the subconscious pressure thinking if some one out there is mocking me or worse judging me.

But the lack of notifications have confirmed that i am utterly alone in my virtual writing therapy with myself. I really am relieved. I look like an idiot smiling like this, but i forget about how wide the internet is and here i am virtually talking to myself. It’s a good feeling.

I’m alone, but not lonely.

Well, its midnight, I’m listening to Keaton Henson in the balls-freezing cold- which all add up to a mental breakdown about life! Ah, I’m too young to be pretending to be happy. I’m allowed to talk about what i really feel because i can’t in real life. I don’t feel safe in the company of my friends. Here it goes then:

Why do I want to know who my blood brother is?

He shares nothing more than a few lines of genetic information with me- the real question is how much I value that. I know my freaking compound security guard more than my ‘brother’. How do I even know what is it like to truly call someone a brother, really. Is it more nature or nurture? I say nurture. My mother is the woman who raised me and taught me to be the person I am today, not the one who gave me up (more complex than that though). My father is the grand figure than teaches me how to do things he can do and how to think wisely, not the supposedly director of some corporation that I’m not supposed to know about.

So don’t feel like you have some sort of ‘connection’ with the people who have similar genes, because you don’t, MeeShee. You were an infant, 3 months old. You barely talked, and she did what was best for you. She loved you but that doesn’t mean that you have to love her. Stop crying. Stop. Good. But not loving her doesn’t mean hating her. I guess she’ll always be that figure who you will never know truly- only through the colours of photographs and non-substantial whispers of aunts. You just won’t know her and there’s nothing to do about it. She’s gone and you can’t just make assumptions about her; you don’t know what she really is. Don’t judge.

But you know who does know her, knew her. Yep-Danny. He doesn’t have the chance to think about nature vs. nurture yet. You aren’t in the place to judge anything, but you can tell that the two made a strong connection and that he is somewhere out there in a social services room waiting for that bitch aunt of ours to sign goddamned contract to let him go and he’s missing a mother. He’s practically an orphan. He no longer has a mother to care for him**though he will soon. He’s in a pickle, to say the least. And here you are typing away at your expensive computer crying about how sad and pitiful your life is while listening to indie music and pretending to be someone you’re not.

There is nothing you can do; this is out of your control, so why would you lose sleep on it. There is no point crying over the things you can’t control, MeeShee. You can’t pretend to be that distant figure that secretly helps in ways that are unspeakable- this isn’t a movie that you play over in your head. This is reality where things are boring and tedious and unfair to the people who deserve goodness the most.
 What you can do, is try your fucking best to give what you can. Don’t think about what could be in the distant future just yet, no montages of you working hard in, like in the movies. Don’t jump into the pool of sisterly affection, because that could be very dangerous.

You’ve got plenty of time to think about Danny, and you’ve got plenty of time not to think about him. Don’t let this consume your life, that isn’t in the best interest of anyone- plus you’re merely a speck of dust in this situation, so a mental breakdown would be a pain in the ass for mum and dad.