my dad deals with an exhaustion that i have never endured. stress and heartbeats, computer clicks and international affairs. bank statements and car payments. medical bills caused by trying to pay the bills.
my mother deals with physical exhaust, legs lined with spider webs of purple and green. the pain of losing a soul inside of her she never saw. the weariness of countless years without a good nights rest. rugged hands from abrasive chemicals to clean messes we made. the wonder of "where did i go wrong?" when her daughters were out of line.
my sisters exhaust was beginning to be mine. seeing life through the eyes of others. the successful, the wealthy, the lovebirds on every corner with rings and a heart that sings.
it was like standing at the window of the electronics store.
tv monitors depicting lives so untouchable, held by such ordinary people. she asks herself "how did they do it?" and "why haven't i gotten there yet?"
its the most crushing walk of life, when the expectations you once held are now on the floor stepped on, disintegrating into patterns of sameness.
i am far too young to experience the exhaust of the ones around me, but my fuel is being lost on being a second choice, an afterthought, and 11PM phone call after the day is done and all that is being sought after is satisfaction. i do not want dates in a drive-in because i know your mind is already on the backseat. i do not care for an empty house, because i no longer crave to be craved. i do not belong in backseats. i do not belong in cars, i am the destination you seek through the windshield, the blow of the wind that drives the passenger to sleep, the home itself, the structure and the stucco, strong and unyielding.