The pipes are calling

I knew that listening to Danny Boy would make me cry. Last time I heard it before today, I was at a family meet-up, which normally only happens when somebody dies, but whatever. All the older relatives were crying, singing along and all, and I hunched up my shoulders to cover my ears because emotions fucking terrify me. It was weird and uncomfortable and I was glad when it was over.

And then today I just... I was writing a story, and the song just seemed to fit. So I had to listen to it, obviously, a few renditions and all. It's a good fucking song, and there are so many singers who've covered it beautifully. But then I found this video, the singer was Deanna something, from a 1941 film 'Because of Him' with Charles Loughton I think?  And I just started crying out of nowhere, and like whisper-singing the words along with her, and in my head I remembered all these old photographs of my grandmother.  One, in particular, I saw at a cousin's wedding, almost made me cry, I was so fucking miserable there.  I know they say, don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened, but... I just can't do that.  I just can't. It hurts.  It hurts to think that everyone I love dies.  I should just keep the good memories, right?  But I can't.  So I just sort of let myself think that everything is as it should be.  I don't believe it, not really.  I'm not delusional.  But I just let myself think it vaguely, because it makes it easier to bear.

But this stupid fucking song--I'm wrecked.  I'm wrecked.  I was gonna go to bed early and all, but I'm sitting here crying and confused and alone and I don't want to go to bed.  Because once I'm in bed and my eyes are closed, all thhe bad thoughts, all the scary things, all those fucking emotions are gonna show up and try to suffocate me.  I don't want that.  I want them to go away and leave me alone.

I had this awful image of singing this song at my father's funeral, and lost my shit.  I don't get along with him--I don't even like him--sometimes I hate him, because of what he's done and said to me.  But still, the thought of watching him die... of going to a funeral for him... I can't.  I can't, I can't, I can't.

I don't want to watch my parents get old and die.  I don't want to watch my little relatives grow up.  I don't know where time even goes--it's there and then it's not, how does that happen?

I feel like I shouldn't have lived this long.  Fuck, I'm only 22, but I feel like I should've died ten years ago.  I wasn't meant for this.  I wasn't meant for the world, not the way it is. I wasn't meant to be an adult.  All I ever wanted, all I ever fucking wanted, was to be a kid and be with my parents.  That's it.  I could never imagine myself as an adult, with a career.  I can't work.  I can't go to school anymore, because I had a mental breakdown over it.  I can't go to the fucking grocery store, so it's not like I can go out and make friends or dates or whatever.  I don't even want that, honestly.  It's like I'm waiting to die.  Not exactly suicidal anymore, because I don't care to do anything about it, and from one day to the next, I'm ok if I don't think about the future.  But long term--that needs to not happen.  Ever.  Because I can't do that.  I can't take it.  I just can't.

 

I guess the hardest part is that I was happy once.  Like, you know how it's usually that people have to look forward to the future, work for it, earn their happiness and all?  Well, I had it, and now I lost it.  I was happy.  I was loved.  I was with people who loved me and cared for me, who had smiles for me, who make up my most precious memories.  And they're gone now.  I can never get that back.  I can never reclaim that happiness, because the people who made up that happiness are dead and gone.  And people are like, you could find new happiness, but... I don't think I can.  Because I don't want new happiness.  It's not like a replacement goldfish, or a fancy new car, or whatever.  I was happy because of the people I loved.  And I can't get them back.  I can't get that back.  

I'm so tired.  I'm just so tired, and I hate crying, like it leaves a slimy feeling in your mouth and salt tears on your lips and your nose is running and your eyes hurt--I hate all that.  I hate being sad.  I hate sniffling. I hate when hot tears turn cold and drip into your ears and stain your pillow. I'm just so fucking tired, and I never feel less tired.  It never goes away.

I just want it to stop.  I've had enough.  I'm so, so tired.

And fucking Danny Boy--the pipes, the pipes are calling,

from glen to glen and down the mountainside,

the summer's gone and all the roses, falling,

'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.

 

Fuckk.  I don't want to watch my parents die.  I don't want them to die.  I don't want them to die.

And I know it'd break their hearts if I died before them--children aren't supposed to die before their parents, right?

But I'm just too fucking selfish to want to outlive them, anyway. Even knowing it would hurt them, I'd rather that than feel the pain of losing them first.

How fucked up is that?  How sad is it that I'm so afraid of pain and grief that I'd let my own fucking parents feel that anguish rather than have to endure it myself?

I'm not a good person.  I'm not a good child.  I'm not a good  anything. And mostly I don't care, but right now my mouth is full of salt tears and my throat is clenching and I want to call my mother, but she's so tired, I on't want to wake her up.  She does so much, she does everything.  She means everything to me. I don't want her to be worried or sad or tired or whatever.  She's fucking tired, she deserves to rest.  And what if she gets upset too?  I can't watch my mother cry.  I can't fucking handle seeing my mother cry.  Fuck.  This is so fucked up. I'm so fucked up.  Other people have it worse than me, and I'm scared of a fucking emotion?

Sometimes I really hate myself.  I just sit here and hate myself, because I'm selfish and cowardly and useless, useless, useless.

And even though I know it, what do I do?  I sit here and cry and want my mother.

 

And if ye come and all the flowers are dying

and I am dead, as dead I well may be,

and you find the place where I am lying

and you shall kneel and say an ave there for me.

and I shall hear, though soft, your tread above me

and al my grave shall warmer, sweeter be

for you shall bend and tell me that you love me

and I shall sleep in peace until you come to me

 

 

Oh but maybe this part's the saddest:

 

but come ye back when summer's in the meadow

or when the valley's hushed and white with snow

for I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow,

Oh, Danny boy, my Danny boy, I love you so.

 

 

Fuckkk.  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkckkckckkkkkkkk.

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