LilkelPixy
Bluelighter
She died 15 minutes before we could get there, if that. i didn't cry, for the time being. in fact, i smiled, for her. she was ready. i felt comforted that she was happy. but when i got home later that night there was a small shrine in the entryway.....rose buds on the table, her charm bracelet laid out below them. a picture of her and my grandpa shined in the moonlight. the tears came. i ran to my bed and they flooded my pillow. i woke the next morning to this: we'd like you to sing at Grandma's funeral.
okay. i'd like to do that too. all i needed was a song-i wanted to do this one on my own though. i wanted it to be for her, from me. nothing else.
2 hours later...the lecture comes. never before have i met a more bigoted man. "i really want you to give this your all, kid. you've gotta practice and try hard for this. you can't just fluff it off- you've gotta do it right." okay, dad, i'm thinking..this is MY Grandma's funeral..."i give a shit, alright. i'm gonna try...give me a chance." he doesn't listen. never does. "it's not that i don't think you can do well", he says. "I'm just concerned that you don't know what a good job is." heart falls. now, i bawl. never good enough, i'll never be good enough for him. i walk out. i can't believe he just said that. i care, i'm not shallow, i'm not gonna fuck this one up. i care. doesn't he understand? singing's my dream-i care. my grandma just died-i fuckin care! but no, he doesn't think i know how to do anything right. no. i'm not incredible, not intelligent, i'm not perfect. he'll smile and say good job, Kelsey one day. one day he'll stop calling me kid. i believe. i will.
okay. i'd like to do that too. all i needed was a song-i wanted to do this one on my own though. i wanted it to be for her, from me. nothing else.
2 hours later...the lecture comes. never before have i met a more bigoted man. "i really want you to give this your all, kid. you've gotta practice and try hard for this. you can't just fluff it off- you've gotta do it right." okay, dad, i'm thinking..this is MY Grandma's funeral..."i give a shit, alright. i'm gonna try...give me a chance." he doesn't listen. never does. "it's not that i don't think you can do well", he says. "I'm just concerned that you don't know what a good job is." heart falls. now, i bawl. never good enough, i'll never be good enough for him. i walk out. i can't believe he just said that. i care, i'm not shallow, i'm not gonna fuck this one up. i care. doesn't he understand? singing's my dream-i care. my grandma just died-i fuckin care! but no, he doesn't think i know how to do anything right. no. i'm not incredible, not intelligent, i'm not perfect. he'll smile and say good job, Kelsey one day. one day he'll stop calling me kid. i believe. i will.
