I do just love seeing my mother. She has a certain aura about her, a certain tone of voice that just lures innocent minds towards her. A look in her eyes that projects a feeling of security, a stature of knowing. And oh how the mindless do flock; friends and enemies alike. Unfortuntely when they find her, disappointment always ensues. It is much like the ageless idea that we as a race desire those things that we can never have. Once we find those things, our attention quickly dwindles and we flock, instead, to the next seemingly unatainable goal.

Am I saying that she is boring? Well, yes, I suppose I am. In her own way she is enchanting and also depressing to be near.

I always desire to see her when I am away, I look forward to our visits. But then, everytime, when we finally do get together I count the seconds until an escape can be made. How pathetic, how utterly distressing. Oh well, I suppose that even the most resilient fall vicitm to those desires that are so human.

Should i feel bad when those brilliant eyes that my mother hold's fall to the ground, engrossed in a confused sadness? Should I feel amused. I no longer know. It is disgusting. Though now I do believe that she has learned to see my boredom and instead combat it with cruelty.

A never ending chess game between the two of us, each never meaning that which results from our actions. Misguided by our lives, egrossed by our own troubles and bored with all others. Pathetic...but hell, it does spice up the life.....I think.