Saturday. In less than six hours, I'll be helping my friend, the Hannah-Nathan, the Nathan-Hannah. Finley and I recently watched Red and Mrs. Doubtfire with barely a mishap, and earlier on in the day at that. Red was funny; restless retirees of the CIA bringing on the ''old days''...it reminded me of the Roses, but in the good way...the challenging way... the 'could I do this?' way.
Katie's having a Party tomorrow. I'm capitalizing Party because it is not a shinny of fun-loving idiots being defeated by video games and drinking caffeine. Instead, Party is people drinking. A lot of drinking. And poor choices. And Katie's a year underage. And Brad's done with college and has injured Hannah with that break-up of theirs, my dear Hannah.
And.... And.... Oh, I have no right to worry....
But I'm terrified of this Party. Why?
HERE'S why:
"Why do I drink? To "forget" about my problems. To fit in socially in the wrong ways. It's an excuse to act on anything and everything. To let go of myself, especially when I'm busy hating me."
"No, I don't need to drink to feel better
No, that drink just makes me stupid
No, drinking can't be my excuse anymore"
But also:
"And you know what? I'm not drinking. Hahaha!"
And:
"...Taking care of me...
And singing like she does.
She's Cinderella
Beautiful, sweet, caring, and has a voice that fits...
She was one her hands and knees cleaning the kitchen floor
Something I only see in Disney movies
Payton is a living breathing Disney Princess
And I am just another person who complains
And makes it about myself...."
Katie, you're the older Sister I always wanted Randi to be. But right now, I want to be the whiny little sister, I want to be the smart ass that points out you're breaking a promise you made yourself. I fucking love you, got it? And you...you shouldn't be doing this.
And yes, if you read this, you're right, naturally.
I can't stop you. It's your choice, your life. You can even be angry at me if you want.
But Katie...
I didn't want to touch your kitchen after that, and I wanted to apologize. It is not your Kitchen's fault that you drink and that bothers me, and it isn't yours for doing it...it's mine, for not telling you it bothers me.
It does, Katie. I'm sorry, but it does. I won't let you do this to yourself until you're legal, I won't let you break this promise to yourself, unless you are willing to knowingly confront the expectation of that choice. If you do it after that.... I will regret for you... but at least I can move on from that. I can't move on from knowing I didn't do anything when you're about to make a poor choice.
I wanted to bitch and scream at you when you picked up that glass, Katie. I did. I wanted to remind you how many times you'd told yourself No, wanted to remind you how much that word meant. I didn't. I swallowed my bile and stared at the baseboard I haven't scrubbed yet, the untouched dishes...
But it does, Katie! Damn it, it does matter! Maybe I'm being a drama whore! Fine! Maybe I'm throwing a fit where there shouldn't be one, but you must realize the only arguments I have here are one I've read, DIRECTLY, from you.... or felt from you. Maybe both.
Please.... please don't drink. Go, fine. Of course, it's a Party and you're young, you're going, you're hip and lively. I understand that and admire that. But please.... don't... don't join them. Keep your promise to yourself, Katie. Please.
Hang out with someone else. Someone who won't drink. Not me... you're probably angry at me for this... but...You Pray for strength every night. You wish for will power and the ability to back out and act on bad situations. You're my hero. You're good and strong, and just.
So don't fuck up another promise to yourself. Don't you dare.
Once, in your blog, you wrote you wanted a Guardian Angel.
I am taking that position for tonight, and if necessary, after this.
If you love me at all?
Don't drink.
"...Next time we're out and about it'll be about her.
Well do dinner and music she likes
We'll color and dance like loons
And laugh like it's the best day ever...."
No comments:
Post a Comment