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October 15th, 2010
07:53 pm
If total strangers you meet in Chinatown and then again on the internet are to be believed, my stalker is actually not my stalker at all, but my father. And said strangers are... I'm not quite sure, but somehow we are vaguely related. Except I'm not sure I believe them, because that was still some stalker-ish behavior and not the best first impression to give someone you claim is your daughter.
I don't know. I mean, I made it eighteen years without a father and I think I turned out pretty all right. I came to terms with the idea that he would never be a part of my life; it sucked, but I was okay with it. And suddenly now I have a father and more siblings than anyone can keep track of, and honestly? I don't feel any different. I don't feel like I'm suddenly part of this huge family. I still feel like an only child with a single mother. That was my life and I loved it, it was perfect, and now everything's different and I have no fucking idea what to do. So I'm going to book a practice room at school tomorrow and work on Tchaikovsky's violin concerto until it's the only thing I can think about. Or until I get so frustrated that I'm tempted to fling my violin out the window, whichever comes first. Anything other than trying to make sense of completely insensible, illogical information.
[Delivered to Drood Tobacco, addressed to the proprietor, is a plain white envelope bearing an equally plain white card. The message inside is brief, neatly written in slanting cursive -- what can't be seen is how long the writer agonized over those few sentences. Every little detail was scrutinized and considered, and at least a half-dozen other cards were thrown out before one was finished to her liking. It reads:
"The bracelet is beautiful, thank you. But next time, you should consider saying hello. I'd appreciate it just as much, and it wouldn't cost you $500."
There is no form of complimentary close, only the name Madeleine signed neatly at the bottom.]
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InsaneJournal |