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I keep asking myself 'who am I'? It's a natural question that follows the question of 'what's my passion'. When you find out what you're passionate about, you find yourself, right? I don't have a passion, does that mean I don't exist? I want desperately for someone to tell me who to be, what to do, and how to live my life, but no one is going to do that. Even if someone were to magically offer me all those answers, why should I trust him?
Why should the guy control me? I'm not a puppet, but I did ask for the answers. I know I'm not making a lot of sense, and I'm sorry about that, but nothing really makes sense. Even if it does make sense, that doesn't mean it's true. What is real? God, this is sad. Im laying on my bed asking questions I'll never get the answers to. Some people say the questions are what make life worth living. I don't buy that. If life is only about the journey, not the destination, then what's the point of the destination?
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I ended up falling asleep with the gentle hum of the A.C. I don't remember when I fell, but I do remember feeling the tempered air caress my hair. I woke up around at midday, Len shouted from the front door, " Im going to play with my friends, I'll be home later!". Once I woke up, the land of dreams refused to accept me again.
I never really have plans on Saturday, I usually just watch tv when I wake up. Today was like the rest. In my zombie-like state, I shuffled into the living room. I propped my feet on the top part of the couch then zoomed through each passing channel. It was a lazy Saturday, like all the rest. The smell of bacon threw me off the couch. I crawled into the kitchen, where I found my mom and sister making breakfast for lunch.
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I sat on the bar and excitedly asked, " what's the occasion?". My mom gave me a smile as bright as the Sun, " I just felt like making breakfast". My little sister copied my mom with her own oven toy set. While the two whistled a merry tune, I blurted out, " did you always think you were going to be a housewife?". She stopped dead in her tracks.
Violet copied our mom. She turned her attention to me, " what do you mean?". Her eyes shattered. I thought a stream of tears would gush from her eyes when she asked, " is it so wrong to want a happy family filled with love?". I quickly stammered, " that's not what I meant! I love and appreciate all the work you do around the house, Im only asking because I'm trying to figure life and stuff!". My mom let out a deep breath, and with an icy glare she muttered, " you should have used different words".
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When she finished making the food, she dropped my plate of food in front of me and sighed, " you're at that age where you want to talk about life, huh?". I was too scared to answer, so I nodded my head.
She gave me her signature smile, " what do you want to know?". I swallowed my fears, " what does it mean to live life?". She raised an eyebrow, " that's all?". She laughed, " alright, honey, I'll tell you". She took a swig of coffee, " living your life means different things to different people. To some, it means going on a grand adventure, others want to protect the happiness of the ones they love, heck, some people just want material gain. The question you should be asking is, how can I live my life". She kissed my cheek. I was stunned, I didn't know what to expect, but definitely not that.
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She let out a sweet laugh, " awe, honey, didn't you know? I was a philosophy professor, you're taking after your mom here, I'm touched". Shocked, I asked, " why'd you give it up?". She kissed my cheek again, " when you have a kid, they are your only responsibility". Violet climbed up the barstool, then kissed my other cheek. My mom grabbed her and carefully placed her onto the ground.
I got ready to ask another question, but before I could, she handed me a list of chores. She gave me a feline smile, " you said you only wanted the one question, and this is for calling me a housewife".
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