An End of a Life Brings What?

My house has just been sold. I won't bore you with the gory details of the countless hours I've spent worrying over this, but you should know that this has been a long time coming. As a young girl, before my father chose to erase "dad" from his identity, I moved a lot. We bounced from place to place, usually a basement apartment or guest house on a friend's property. Moving had become a comfortable exercise, building muscle memory that instinctively knew when the packing boxes would be coming out of storage. That was life with my father, but luckily it was only a small part of my life since I only spent about four days a month with him.

Life with my mother was very much the opposite. She was the rock of the family, keeping my brother and I secure in the same house for our entire childhoods. We loved our small house with the big yards and mysterious bush that stood beside our property. We never dreamed of leaving that house. In fact, I can recall a time when I promised my mother that I would live in that house with her forever. I was so precious when I was young, no?

But that was then, and this is now. Several years have passed, and I'll soon be leaving my mother to explore the world and see what it has to offer me. The only thing that stands in my way is one year, just a mere twelve months. But even though my independent life won't truly start until that year dwindles down to a few days, I feel as though this move is a preview of what my future life could hold in store for me. Soon, I'll be separated from my childhood home, so the majority of my sentimentality will be squeezed out of me during this moving process. I'd like to think I'm not an incredibly sentimental person, but it's experiences like these that reveal your true self, right?

What I'm trying to say is that I feel like a part of my life has ended. However, I don't think it'll be as painful as it seems. It won't be like having a limb severed and getting that ghost limb feeling. I'm hoping I'll drop this house, my immediate attachment to my childhood, and gain more room for the future, for a more adult life. High School will end by next summer, and then I'll move onto University. Things are changing, and I'm hoping this move will begin to prepare me for this. I'm not entirely sure what the next few weeks will bring me, but it'll be interesting for sure...

One Of Those Feelings..

I’m not sure that I can say that I’ve given up on him. I’m so sick of living in a throw-away society, of being part of an entire generation of people that are so detached from everything and everyone around them. For once, I want something to stay in my life. I want something solid that I can hold on to, something that will provide me some stability in a time when nothing is certain and nothing is set in stone. I want to be able to fix something when it’s broken, not just dispose of it when it suits my fancy.

And yet all at the same time, I’m so tired of hearing myself say the two words, “I want”. It’s not all about me, I know that. That’s the second thing my generation is so famous for: our constant concern for ourselves, our infamous self-absorption. The world revolves around the sun, not me. If I could produce even a fraction of the energy that the sun does, if I could make a fraction of the impact on this world that the sun does, then maybe I would potentially deserve a fraction of the attention and recognition that the massive orb does. My generation, my pupils, seem to consider themselves highly important in today’s society, when in reality, none of them could care less about one another. These attitudes are the reason why I know I have no right to use the phrase “I want” as frequently as I do. After all, I am considering a situation that concerns another person, someone who I claim to care about, someone who I claim to love.

The truth is, I’m a flake. I get a million ideas all at once, and I can’t stick with just one. I get theories and fears and assumptions and can never decide which one to follow or which one I can trust. I don’t know the truth about everything, and most of the time I don’t know the reality of the situation. I try to pretend that I have a clue, but who am I kidding? I’ve begun to get this sinking feeling deep down in my chest that tells me he doesn’t love me anymore. I’ve got this weird sense that he’s lost interest, that things have changed. I want it all to go back to the way things were, but to be honest, I can’t be sure that things have really changed at all. I guess what worries me is that I have no real way of knowing what’s true and what’s false, what has happened, what is happening, or what will happen.  I don’t like to be out of control of the situation, and so I end up lying to myself and to others, just to make it seem like I know what I’m doing. At one time, I really have no way of knowing what’s going on in his mind, and so I make up stories and theories that suit my crazy assumptions. What frightens me is that these are all just fantasies, figments of my imagination until one or another is confirmed. When that will happen, I don’t know; but until then, I will continue to struggle uncomfortably against my own thoughts. My current thoughts tell me he has fallen out of love with me, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to give up on him or this relationship yet. I want to fight for us, I want to fix us. But unfortunately I have yet to completely realize my insignificance to this world, and that odds are most likely leaning against me. Then again, this is just another one of those feelings I have…

Bienvenue Chez Moi

No, I'm not French. I just feel the urge to find titles and names that sound cooler than what they actually are. I hope this will show you how lame I am, even before you get to know me in my blog.

I just wanted to give a wee introduction to myself, and to my blog. My name is Maizee, and I'm a Canadian female. That's about all you're going to get to know about me. Should you decide to take a peek at my profile, you might notice my profile picture is a group photo of a bunch of teenagers. Yes, I'm somewhere in that mix. I just thought it'd be fun to make people guess which girl I am. It'd be interesting to see who people think I am, what they picture me to look like..
Anyway, I wanted a blog so I could have a little corner on this big, wide web to myself. I wanted a place where I could spew my thoughts and ideas, where they'll exist forever on the internet, possibly to haunt me in the future.

I'm calling these ideas my musings. This is what I have to say about life and the world I live in. I may be writing all this to myself, but for now, this is a comfort to me.