Sometimes I think I must look quite sad. I sometimes picture an imaginary mirror in front of me, like the other day in the car. And it feels as if my face is permanently affected by a stroke with sadness being the only emotion being able to be expressed.
I wonder if somebody noticed; someone in the other cars. Maybe I even looked funny to some of them. I wonder if my sadness is as visible as it feels. As graspable.


I haven’t yet mastered the art of putting my shield up at the right time. 
I’m talking about the shield that ricochets bullshit from random people. I’m working on it. Meanwhile, I’ve been exploring how crappy the welcome party to parenthood is. 
I’m talking about the party thrown by other parents. 
Yes, I need to make myself clearer now. It’s the tiredness. 

It seems that parenthood as a brand new, virgin territory is the jugular which senior ranking parents go for to diminish the hell out of you.
Not good enough. Not caring enough. Not motherly (never fatherly) enough.
You’re too independent. Too self-absorbed. Too happy even.

I’ve met parents who are having a blast - born to do this apparently. The happiest people on earth. Making it all seem like Disneyland; realistically chaotic yet fucking amazing.
And I’ve met parents who absolutely hate it. Hate it to the core but can’t admit it. Interesting species.
And then there are the other ones. The monstrosities. Worthless and miserable. With nothing to exhibit but their biological ability to procreate, they adopt a strenuously unabashed stare at everyone else. So much fun when you shock them or an utter disgust if you fail to spot them soon enough.

-You stopped having nightmares.
-Is this a bad thing?
-I'm not sure. Isn't it?
-You know there's nothing I can do about it.
-There must be something.
-I'm afraid not. I just don't care anymore. Besides, I've met someone else.
-What are you telling me?
-I'm telling you that I've met somebody. Somebody new. There's nothing really special about him. He's just new.

I miss it. I freaking miss it. I need to accept that. Yes, I know, I'm in a different place now and yes, I know, I'm more mature now and self-aware and all that crap. I am self-aware. Fuck yeah. I am aware that I can't help but miss it. Everything around me is expecting me to change, waiting for me to transform into another species and yet all my senses are telling me that I'm not made for this. No wait, I'm not made for just this. I can't be both though. I can't support a double life. I can't moonlight. Don't have the time, the energy, the will. All I have are my instincts. As if I've been bitten by a vampire and I'm trying to cover the mark. Can't fight blood.

Everything changes. I keep saying this to myself, I keep seeing the evidence but no matter how unequivocal it is there is no possible way I will be ready for this.
I'm not mature enough, not sure enough, not yet.
I'm waiting. For something. I guess it's you.