Delusional Decisions

After a long day at work, my mother's hands worked tirelessly: chopping vegetables for dinner, mending our clothes, even repairing the radio if needed. I loved her hands and admired them. I wanted to be strong like her, but at the same time I can’t be. I gladly would if I weren’t so delusional.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware of my mental state, but there’s nothing I can do to control it. If I tried cooking like her, I’d end up spilling boiling water on my innocent dog. If I tried fixing our clothes, I’d end up sewing my fingers together.

I tried offering my help a few times with simple tasks, such as holding a light for my dad in the garage or peeling onions and potatoes for my mom while she prepared a group meal. But those just landed me in the hospital for cuts and burns many times through the years.

Being in a rural city doesn’t help much either for finding good hobbies and jobs. I don’t have many options to start with, and when I do land something good, no one wants to work with someone who needs babysitting. I know I can do good work, it’s just a matter of doing it right and not burning the building down in the process. I’ve tried getting involved in group activities and sports, but I either get kicked out or kick myself out before they get the chance. I turned to solo projects like painting, archery, and even doing puzzles alone, but for my own safety and sanity, that’s just as dangerous as being in a group.

Don’t even get me started on dating. I guess I come off as a good person to be with, but the longer a date goes on, the more they see the real me. I can see it on all their faces that they’re trying to be nice and cordial, sticking it out to the end of the date, but they want to get away as soon as possible and never see me again. After the last date ending with him dropping me off and peeling out of my driveway before the car door was fully closed, I decided to stop putting myself through all that torture and accept my fate of singlehood.

I’m grateful for my parents though. They always put on a brave face and try to support me any way they can. I can’t imagine what life was like for them when I was a baby. Kids are difficult enough to parent, but me being who I am probably made them want to rip their hair out. Part of me thinks life for them would be best without me. It makes sense that I’m an only child. I’m sure they took one look at me and knew to never make this mistake again.

I spoke to a few of my friends about it and they said I shouldn’t be too concerned. Some of them also don’t have siblings, which is why we bonded so well. But I can’t remember the last time any of them came over to hang out. That doesn’t surprise me though, they all know I’m off my rocker anyway. Seriously, who’d want to be around someone who thinks there’s three more people in the room than there actually are?

After many years of struggle and pain, I’ve decided to leave. I can’t keep putting the ones I love in danger. I don’t know where I’ll go, what I’ll do, or who I’ll see, but at least I’ll have the voices to keep my company.