Talks and missing keys.

I see two ducks sleeping their head under the wings. I wish I could tune out the world like that, not to care about the people jogging behind there at the bench, just not to hear or see... be in peace - mostly with myself. I've been light headed all day, not in the bad way, just getting stuck with the conversation I had with Cat early in the Monday morning. Others had left to pick up days delivery and we stayed at the village, talking. I was the only one who had spent the night because it had been raining and she demanded me to stay saying that it's not fun to bike an hour in pouring rain getting wet. 

   I can't really recall how it began, but she has this project where she goes around schools with a play about school bullying and there's also some workshops attached to it which she goes through with every class. Somehow we ended up talking about bullying... from the last year she already knows about my ed (didn't mention it now...) and I said I've been bullied since the third grade. Also said that I tried to kill myself and that my mom is clueless and told her what she told me when I said I was bullied "Well, I was bullied too, you know. But dare to go to class without teacher present, I didn't. Think it as a game, if you change school or class, you'll loose." 

   I love how Cat reacts to things. She's quite an artist have to say... she shows the surprise, does some minor expressions and tells a story, supports you without saying if someone did right or wrong. She's just interested in what you have to say and she analyzes what you tell through her own experiences and life to understand what you say. I so love talking with her... this world needs more persons like that. But I can understand very well where does it come from, she's an actress so she needs to understand how to put oneself in different emotions so that it seems real. But usually when you tell people the darkest secrets you hold on to, they tend to really shock, not know what to say or do and they react with patch of emotion - if it's not a psych who is trained to be blank which makes me just annoyed, angry and feeling like I talk with a robot who gives the answers someone has trained them to say. 

I miss my mom.

But I don't want her to know... it hurts.

I have a perfect front that I keep up. I have my own life. And I have understanding that my mom can't give me the things I need, she's not a person you can lean on. She'll break and go ballistic because she can't face you. And I do feel guilty not telling her, I keep thinking what would happen if she would know all the stuff going on... but then I realize I can't know that. It's my dream mom, who would actually care, be there for me and say that it's gonna be ok. Not mine. And that's hard part to understand for many since mom is supposed to be the one that takes care of you no matter how stupid you were. But that's an utopia, not everyone is like that, and that would be insane to expect so. We're all humans after all and not everyone can handle others ultimate misery and help, be there etc. I love the way Cat put it, "if your parents aren't able to be emotional and care the right way, you need to find it from somewhere else." 

That's true. But what if I keep blaming myself for having those needs my parents can't fill? I try to erase them, make them non existent and disappear by starving, binging, working out - getting lost in my wonderland just to make them look like perfect, so that they can fit in the society's demands. 

This conversation has followed me the whole time and it will follow me still for a long time. I wanna treasure it, the magic of trust when you tell your story to someone. And that's not the whole story, not yet... which means that I'll have more conversations like that. 

I also forgot keys inside and I had to go to spent a night at Al, newbie who started last year. He kindly took me in so that I can have a spare key the next day... which wasn't easy either since I live at Sheng's apartment illegally. I had to create a paper that said that I have right to go and take care of her flowers with her signature. Man I'm evil.