The truth is, though according to Oxford there are over 171,476 words in the English language, there are no words to describe how I feel. There is no word to describe this bittersweet thing lingering in my suppressed tears. I fear no word in our language lets such sorrow and joy mingle and become one like it has in me. I feel loved deeply at the same time that I feel unwanted and unneeded. How can this be? I have no earthly idea, but this is how I feel at the moment. I know that some, like my Mother and a few friends, do truly care for me. And yet......I feel unnecessary. I hate this. I am just feeling sorry for myself. If I know that then why do I still feel this way. Empty. I want to cry, but I'm holding these tears back, because I'm scared...scared to cry? scared to cry alone? scared of what? I am not sure what I am scared of, to tell the truth, but I know for one I'm scared to lose. I lost my Grandfather, Father, and Brother all within six months. I am afraid of losing my Mother as well. She is my best friend. Most girls at the age of seventeen hate their parents, and honestly I did have a little bitterness toward my Mom until my Dad died. After I lost the single most important person in my life I clung to her. She was my one and only shelter from this cold, uncaring, thing called life. Now every time she is out of my sight, I am afraid of what might happen to her. I have nightmares that she is killed or that she'll just take off and leave me. I will be an adult in just four short months. I should be more independent. Like my sister and brother, for instance. My sister got married and moved out as soon as she graduated. My brother continued to live in my Dad's house even after he passed away. He was the one who took care of him during those last months with his fight with cancer. They are so strong, unlike me. I am the baby in my family and I still act like one. I hate myself for that.
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Thanks for sharing your heart in this piece. My one comment would be to make some different paragraphs to help the reader. You wrote a tourching piece. Marijo
