The weather cannot make up it's mind. It's hot, then cold. Rain, ice, snow, sun, clouds, repeat, repeat. Every time I think spring may be on it's way, the landscape freezes and kills the green buds brave enough to have crept out in the sunlight. It's discouraging, but reminds me of myself.
I have tentatively tried to grow socially, to reach out and be friendlier. I'm quickly reminded though of how I don't fit in, how people would rather sit in silence than address me, going as far as blatantly ignoring when I try to drum up a topic.
The ones that speak to me tell me I'm sweet, and kind, a good person to know. I'm confused and disappointed (mostly confused) that I get such a strong inverse reaction from others. And the negative keeps beating me back, reverting me to what is simplest, what I know best. To be a wallflower, hidden in shadows, ignored or unnoticed.
My birthday comes and goes with little fanfare. Lawrence takes me to dinner and gets me a nice dress, to help in updating my wardrobe to fit my recent smaller figure. He tells me how much I mean to him and how happy he is I'm in his life. He is kind, and his words touch me, but I can't help to think the day marks 20 years of my father not wanting me in his life.
I will never understand what pushed him to choose drink over his children, to not provide for them, and to not have any kind of relationship where they were a part of his life. I will never know if I have half-siblings, if he thinks of us from time to time, if he even remembers our names.
I hear other co-workers say their life was so incomplete because their dad wasn't there to toss the pigskin at their beck and call, or that they didn't come to every school event, and all I can feel is bitterness welling up inside me. I bite back the tears and my tongue, to prevent myself from letting them know how good they have it. That they still speak to their father, and he will converse with them, the simple fact that they know where he is and that he's alive. I feel the anger and sadness well up inside me, but take a deep breath and let it wash over me. I know my pain won't translate, no matter how I string together the words.
And so I continue to sit quiet, unwilling to speak the words that will fall on deaf ears.
