Her longing for you, your whole world. Her energy, time, emotion, and choices for you and your people's well-being. All for the confusing crankiness of your swerving in anything you utter and do. The confusion is difficult to ingest, for what it does to those seeing and living with you. The night I see her wishing and longing for the strength you need to attain, realize and embrace at some point, you can't have any say in a life you gave. The thing is, interestingly, even she can't too. However, how patiently she's dealing with your fickled madness and reign, the so-called reign. The way she takes up all your emotional strain and despair, nonsensical but intense to the core, cause you don't realize that పట్టువిడుపు is the real deal. You, too, know, hopefully now, even more so, that you need to stop all of this, the expressions, movements, words, and whole narration essaying the unhealthy bitterness you're boiling in yourself, with all the good warm water around. By the way, just meeting deadlines you self-make without any fruitfulness and fulfillment internally uplifting you out of it isn't even like a horse that carries a certain elegance and strength in it. A horse, when not handled and ridden by one with certain desires stemming from unstable ideals, works differently.
"Sometimes you tell me we'd be eating together, and the next thing, I'm told to climb up the stairs like a young kid can climb a tree and beyond!
Sometimes you tell me I shouldn't touch this stove and even dare to enter this area, but the next thing I see is your bull expressions as I just come out [smiling with my child singing as we got time alone].
Sometimes, I must not cross my legs,
that syllable is disrespectful to your person,
should sit on that sofa just as the clock strikes that time,
Almost disappear like I'm a marathon runner climbing those stairs [the stairs that your soul sweats to get on, almost tripping every time you climb it up],
Don't ask to offer anything like a mom or child would[if not to you who roars and corners for doing so, at least the one who would receive it can't get it? Well, who are you?], and don't utter a word when happily eating food".
And she can't even talk to her good ol' peeps freely. Got to come out of that space, got to say nothing. And so on. Well, the hell you are?
An effective awkwardness and, more than anything else, fog. Why anyone gotta be there in your home anyway? Let go. Honestly, just let go. That shrinking and dwindling is perfectly so. I'm her child by heart, I'll take her, but her heart is here. Phew, gawd.
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