The Hysteric One

Now that I'm home, I'm sitting here, looking at this mess, trying to gather even the slightest little energy to fix it. There are dirty dishes everywhere and the newly washed clothes spread all over the apartment. My school books lying on the desk, laughing at me, too tired to open them, too tired to study for my test. I've slept all morning, and I'm still sleepy, it feels as if I could sleep through anything. That's all I feel like doing, anyway. Don't want to be alone, don't want to be around other people. And I'm wondering, why doesn't everything just stop? How can people just, keep on living, keep holding on? Not only is that what everyone does, every stranger, every unfamiliar face, but it is what we do as well. Mum does, you know, and that bothers me the most. We're talking about the difference between life and death here, and all she can think of is 'what'll happen to the firm if I stay at home, sick?' So she ignores whatever instructions or recommendations she might have gotten from the doctor, who is the one with experience here, and she just keeps on working, keeps getting up in the morning and goes to work, even with the cancer spreading in her body, with every breath causing her heart to flicker and her lungs to tighten. Part of me wants to just run home and hug her and tell her how much I love her, and ask her, who am I gonna call if you go? Who am I gonna call? You can't leave me, you can't, cause if you do, I wouldn't know who to call! And I would stay at home with her, and take care of her, so she wouldn't have to do anything. Another part of me though, just wants to slap her in the face and tell her to grow up and start taking some responsibility, do you want your daughters to lose their mother, do you want your husband to lose his wife that he loves above everything, just because you were too damn stubborn to listen to the doctor? Too stubborn even, to listen to your own family?
And then, it's this thing my sister said that's bugging me. We talked about all this yesterday, I guess to process it a bit, and she says, 'I hate that Mom thinks I'm so strong. She tells me it's so nice to talk to me cause I don't go hysteric like you, Bekki. But the second she hangs up, I always cry. And I cry like there's no tomorrow.' And suddenly, I go: 'I'm the hysteric one? I don't want to be the hysteric one. I don't. Want. To. Be. The. Hysteric. One.'
I know that's what it's like, it's not that. It's just that I've always been very different from my family in some ways. Like the fact that my family is very practical in most situations. And when something bad happens, we solve everything that need be solved first. We can cry later, be sad later, mourn later, when we got the time. I don't do that, never have, and it's always gotten me into trouble, especially with my Mom, who doesn't understand why I'm different, you know. Time stops for me. Everything seems to be unimportant, except what I feel. And I take time to feel. I make time to feel. Cause if something happens, I wanna be able to say that time stopped, that everything turned upsidedown, that I lived in slowmotion, NOT that I just cleaned it up and waited for the time to come when it was allright to mourn. Is it so wrong to feel that you gotta let out your emotions, instead of carrying them inside you, letting them grow so badly that when they go off, they're like a nuclear bomb, not only affecting you, but everyone around you?
I used to feel I didn't fit in in my family, and I wanted out. Now that I am, I miss them. Oh God, how I miss them. And I just wanna go back in time, wanna relive my life, so that maybe I could have been better. I, I just wish I had been better. You know?