It just keeps happening

Why does it keep happening? And all I do is keep searching for the answer, directing all my energy and time exactly in the middle of the problem, targeting the very core, trying to stand on my two feet and support my bastard child. Fair enough, I agree that is harsh. It’s not her fault someone left her and I had a heart big enough to let her in. She was cold, how could I not. Now the cat has separation anxiety and I can’t even use half of my bed anymore. What a comedy my life has become. And it all started with one innocent call from my grandma. She decided to leave. It’s for our good, she said. She’s not leaving for all, she said. She’s just cutting ties, making her baggage smaller, dropping the unnecessary weight. I was eating a lot at the time, for sure, but after she flew off I begin a diet. And now the diet has come to this. I keep showing people the path to the corridor, that same corridor that leads to the front door, which, automatically is the way out. Out of the life I created for myself. And the cat. Can’t forget the cat. Maybe I am more similar to my grandma then I thought. We are both better off without anyone, taking care of ourselves only the way we suppose is best. Who need friends, who needs boyfriends when you have a whole pack of instant coffee just for yourself, the bedroom only for you and not for another pant-pooping, loud-screaming, can’t-stop-crying sibling. As you can tell I was not an only child and oh how much I hated those lucky ducks. 

Imagine for a minute you’re a middle school director, going through classes for no reason at all, carrying a notebook to look more serious, probably just scribbling there names of the teachers you keep forgetting and taking this as a chance to exercise your frozen legs, because (what a surprise!) the school cannot afford heating anymore. You come into a class and from one look you can tell which child is a second or third born. First of all, it is quite likely you already know their older siblings so you start feeling a bit light-headed since you’ll have to deal with another one of the same kind. Second of all, hand down clothes, used pencil cases, enormous clothes that look just sad on that small body. That’s how you tell - the child hates their family. Seriously, I have never met a person with siblings that haven’t wished at least once for their family to disappear. Americans created at least five Christmas family movies on the same topic. So try to understand why I had to leave my sister on that road that specific night. 

It’s kind of like a family tradition. You only count independent when you forget everyone that has at least one single drop of blood with the same DNA as yours. I fought that stereotype, I convinced myself I am not like that, put all efforts to not disclose myself from the family. That’s why everyone left me. They could not wait. They wanted to be free, properly free. Everyone except Anny. I don’t think I need to describe her anymore. She was the pant-pooper, loud-screamer in the house. But she loved me more like any of our family members ever loved another. The white sheep in the darkness of black chickens. 

I still knew the day would come where she would decide that she doesn’t need me anymore. She would run forward the path she chose and wouldn’t turn her head back to look if I’m following as usual. That’s why that night I decided. It’s better I leave her then she leaves me first. We went for a ride. Bought ice scream. It was simple to take a turn left instead of right without her noticing, even more, simple to imitate the car breaking down. The hardest part was to ask her to go outside and push it out. I was afraid of my voice breaking or hands shaking. Afraid she would figure it out and I wouldn’t be able to explain myself. But she didn’t. I drove away. It was time.

I kept telling myself for years that I did it for her. I made the hard decision, her heart wouldn’t have taken the pain of leaving me. She was too fragile, too soft to handle death the way that I did. without looking back. But then I remembered that I did look back. I did see the absolute look of betrayal and pain flashing in the car mirror. No anger or blame, just devastating recreancy and disappointment. I almost could hear her voice in my head saying how I was the last person she expected to leave her. Well, she shouldn’t have been surprised. Starting with grandma, the mom, then our oldest brother. They all did it. Habits are so easy to create and hard to get rid of.

I gave it a lot of thought, more then I would like to admit. I thought about how Socrates said, ‘I know that I know nothing.’ The more we learn and develop the mind, the more we discover the limits to improving, so the misunderstanding that rises above the limits of the mind enriches us, because we realize that we do not understand what we do not understand. There is something that no one, even the most intelligent person on earth, understands and cannot comprehend. Maybe we don't even know that such a thing exists, maybe we haven't even discovered it yet. Take space. Even the most genius minds are unable to comprehend concepts such as “infinite” or “never-ending”. In the same way with freedom, we will never really understand what it means to have 100% independence and liberty because a person who would actually experience it would die. Such freedom would mean the separation of the baby from the mother, not being able to experience love or any human connection. This experiment, though contrary to all moral laws, was conducted with a couple of newborns. They were even fed and cared for, all dying from a simple lack of love. Our mind is unable to comprehend complete freedom because we are able to live in a society and are dependent and influenced by others. And my family for sure loved to achieve what no other family could. So we bent the limits, we tried to achieve the impossible, dangerous freedom.