Always Between the Lines

She's proud of me. I paste this fake smile on my face to cover the confusion that statement brings. For the most part, I think that she is delusional, but in fact she did have something to do with creating me. . Our minds cannot be completely trusted because we have this human tendency to perceive things as they aren't and fabricate the truth a little bit with our own reality. Well I mean, pride is something worth while, but when it feels like someone who is borderline vicariously-living-through-her-kids, it gets a little bit harder to breathe, no? She's been judged for the mistakes and the misconceptions of the real picture, but what about the years that I miraculously erased from my memory? The ones that included her.. Today was her birthday. Well, technically yesterday. I hope nothing but tranquility for her from here on out. I hope that she'll be a faithful grandmother. I see it as her getting a whole new chance to get it right for another little girl. I was raised by my grandmother so let's hope that she picks up on that too. I know that just in making that statement I'm expecting something that has an illusory correlation; it doesn't exist, but I'd like to hope so. My memory is cruel, queen of attention to detail. defending intentions if [s]he fails. But I love her still.

Just because I have reached new heights doesn't mean that I have let go of my track shoes. I'm still running. I would like to leave certain things behind me, like today for instance. But, I can't seem to because the tension in my shoulders and in my jaw are reminding me that I had a stressful day. It even feels like I sleep with furrowed brows, like I'm having a bad dream or something. I have to remind myself to relax every now and again. Pathetic.