I suppose there was always a pre-determined outcome
for self absorption, in your life.
A mother with a failed aspiration,
“I was a singer too you know”
A sister with a similar dream.
She was going to be a pop star, wasn’t she.
And you, a film producer.
You were the golden children of your family.
Older siblings, sometimes envious,
of the adoration your parents felt
for their newest offspring.
Of course, you never noticed.
You were the blessed pair.
The revered twins.
You were the most attractive,
the most talented.
You wanted a different life
than that of your older siblings,
with their mundane aspirations,
isn’t that right?
‘They’ve made mistakes’
‘They just don’t have as much ambition as I do’
‘You know, they’re damaged’
And tell me,
what children of divorce
ever really come away unscathed?
You never knew their pain,
but I did.
When you left for your ‘gap year’.
When you abandoned the one who loved you
for a new country,
And the girls…
All those beautiful girls.
How could you keep your eyes from them?
You were seventeen then.
You were entitled to live your dream,
‘This is about me and what I want’
And wasn’t it always, my love.
It’s your life, and nobody will stand in your way.
Not even those who loved you.
And now you are 30.
I watch as I have always watched.
I see you grapple with your insecurities.
I see, this incessant need to prove yourself.
(I blame your mother).
Your social media,
full of self adoration.
You are so busy.
You have so many projects.
You just have so much going on right now.
You can’t wait to go travelling again.
And the girl who broke your heart?
‘SCREW HER’, right?
Even though you are the one who cheated.
You are the one who lied.
But it’s always someone else’s fault.
(Because mother tells you so).
And how they have set you up for failure,
with their nauseating adoration of you.
‘Tiger mom’ expects perfection, doesn’t she?
But how can you possess humility
whilst carrying around
this self-importance they have cultivated in you.
And humility is a gift, my love.
Perhaps we will never agree.
And it doesn’t please me
to see you struggle like this.
You were like a brother to me.
I see the goodness of your heart.
I see the confusion you feel.
I see your conflicting emotions.
But to watch you live like this
is so painful for me to watch.
I notice you recoil,
when you ask for my opinion
and I hold a mirror to you.
But what else other than honesty
does a real friend offer?
And my words come from kindness,
even if you are not ready to hear them.
You stumble through life blindly.
Only thinking of yourself.
Every action and every thought
How do I feel?
How does this affect me?
And I hate to feel this way about you,
but I want to shake you.
Shout at you and say,
You will always feel this way.
You will always wonder why things don’t work out.
You will always feel wronged.
While your ego rules your life like this.
Your narcissism is out of control,
I wish you could see,
the simple joy
in letting go of your self importance.
I wish you could shift your focus
to help others, just a little,
Then I am certain you would feel the joy,
happiness and fulfilment,
you are so desperately seeking
in all the wrong places.
I want so much for you to find that.
But I may as well be speaking another language,
as I try to communicate with a heart stifled
by the madness of the mind.
no face woman © 2017