Silence and Solitude

I very rarely have silence and solitude.  I thought I was going to have some of it tonight, because everyone had plans, but (as it turns out) teenagers’ plans are never solid.  The statement, “I’m going to … (insert place here) …” turns into “I’m going to sit on my ass on the couch for the next four hours” about 75% of the time.  Of course, the second part of that statement is never spoken aloud, because they know I would tell them to get the hell out of the house – do something, ANYthing!  Just stop watching TV.  Read a fucking book.

 No, it’s more like a subtle “fuck you, mom, I just want you to shut up, so I’ll say whatever I need to say so you will leave me alone”.  And then when I ask them what their plans are (an hour later, two hours later, three hours later) I’m accused of trying to get in their business.  Prying.

Here’s the truth:  99% of the time, I don’t want to be in their business, but I’d like them to get the hell out of my space for a while so that I can string a few thoughts together and potentially write something of value.  Unfortunately, I never write anything of value, because when I squeeze in 10 minutes to write, I puke out bullshit feeling-words about how I don’t have time to write. 

It’s whatever.  I’ve come to terms with the fact that the space in my own mind doesn’t belong to me.  I will never have solace, and I will never be a proper writer. 

I’ll get over it.