Some days, I think I’m too nice. Like I care too much about everyone around me and in return, no one ever reciprocates those feelings to me … Other days, I remember how much of an asshole I truly am and all thought’s of being morally correct vanquish. During times of introspection, I come to sudden realizations that there isn’t much I care about anymore. Sure, I wear the appropriate human emotions. Sadness, joy, empathy, compassion, and anger.. But they never feel genuine to me. My intentions are always selfish. And I suppose they always will be.
A prime example of how awful I am is my trip to New York last month. My grandmother died of cancer and I was going there for her funeral. That side of my family lives in Rhode Island, but as usual, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit the city. It’s fucking New York after all. Every time I walk down the streets of that city, I’m thrown into a whirlwind of emotions. The sights, smells and hordes of people make me feel something indescribable. I needed to go.
So just like that, I turned off my phone. Ignoring the inevitable calls of my grieving family, who were of course expecting me. I took that 30 minute train ride to Manhattan and got lost for the day. Never mind that I called my grandmother one time prior to her death. I was in the city and nothing else mattered.
I eventually went to an expensive burger joint and ate, putting it all on my mothers s credit card. She was probably calling me by now too.
Around six, I figured I should finally head east to Brentwood.
When I got to the train station, I turned my phone on to a few missed calls. I’m sure they knew where I was. Finally calling my mother, I was informed that they had planned to wait for me so we could go to the morgue as group. When I hadn’t shown up at my disclosed time, they went without me.
Oh well, right?
I actually remember bitching to my mother about no one being at the train station to pick me up. Figures.
The worst part was how lovingly everyone welcomed me, even though they spent most of the day waiting for me. I can still see the disappointment in my families faces … Maybe it’s a little selfish to think they cared about where I was. Like the day was all about me… Their mother did after all, just die. Who knows. I’m selfish regardless of those events.
And you know… If I had to do it again, I still would’ve gone to that beautiful city.