"Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance."

                                                --Confucius

To Be Human

“Why are you like that?”

Looking at my mother, I reply, “Like what?”  The simple question is pointless, but I ask it anyway.  This isn’t the first time my mother has asked me this question, although every time she asks that question it is always done differently.

“So condescending, as if you hate the world.”

I stifle a laugh that is not really a laugh at all.  Somehow I feel the need to continue this game.  “Really?  I didn’t notice.”

Lies, lies, lies.

“Are you depressed?”

I smirk before replying, “I’m a teenager…” I drift before continuing.  “Of course I’m depressed.”

She nods completely dismissing any mental issues I may have.  What she doesn’t realize is that this is exactly the right answer.  Denying a question would only make her think there was a problem and admitting it would have the same effect.  This game has only gone on for years, but this game is one I excel in.

“Then what’s wrong with you?”  Mother asks.

I laugh and give her a fake smile.  “I’m a teenager.”

Inside I am truly laughing at my reply.  For years she has discredited me by claiming that ‘I am just a teenager’ and her judgment rules over mine.  I feel I should almost thank her for being able to throw that back into her face, almost.

She gives me one last look before walking off.

***

            The lights suddenly illuminate the room.  My mother stands next the light switch, one hand resting against the wall, the other on her hip.  Her eyes narrow as they meet mine, but somehow I can’t focus on those dark eyes that I know are looking at me in anger.  She frowns at me as she has many times, the right side of her lip tilted down slightly.  The creases on her forehead and wrinkles under her eyes make her look only slightly older than she seems.

            “Your late,” her voice is filled with disapproval.

            I shrug and offer her an innocent smile.  “So I am.”

            “Your drunk too.”

            Perhaps, but I wasn’t drunk enough to miss her angered expression or her body tense after I take a step forward.

            “Why?”  She asks desperately.

            “Why what?”  I ask innocently.

            Her frown becomes deeper and more wrinkles appear.  I notice there are a few gray hairs among her dark hair.

            “Is there something wrong?”  There is almost laughter in my voice.

            “This is the third night you have come in so late.”

            “Fifth.”

            Mother’s eyes widen.  “What?”

            “It’s my fifth night coming back this late…you must have missed the first couple.”  I say with a smile.

            “Why do you go out and come back like this?  How can you be so irresponsible?”

            “I’m young, isn’t this what I’m supposed to do.”

            I can tell she is thinking of a retort and can’t find the proper one.  I almost laugh at my victory, but I don’t want her to think that I have won yet.

            “Don’t do it again,” she says softly.

            “Of course,” I reply sincerely, yet not at all.

***

            She’s angry, yet sad.  Her eyes are almost pleading as she yells at me, “Why did you do it?”

            “Do what?”  I ask innocently.

            “Stop it!”  Then her voice softens.  “Please just stop.”

            I just smile at her.

            “I don’t understand,” she says as she looks away from me.  “You always have gotten yourself into trouble, but…this…why would you do such a thing?  I don’t understand…where did I go wrong?”

            As she is speaking to me I can’t stop my laughter.  The bitter mental laughter that has been with me for years somehow sounds less real when I hear it now.  Even as my mother eyes widen in shock I can’t stop.  She must think that I have snapped, and I am almost certain that she is right.  I have snapped.  She shouldn’t be so surprised though…I have been like this for years.

            For the last few years our game has began to approach its end.  I was certain that she would have noticed it, at least now of all times, but she still didn’t understand.

            “What’s wrong?”  I ask, mocking.  “What is it?  Are you just oblivious or are you an idiot too?”

            She is not longer sad only angry.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

            I shake my head and stifle my laughter.

            “Where did I go wrong?  What did I do wrong?”  She whispered to herself.

            “Nothing,” I pause before continuing, “Everything.”

            “What?”

            “I have always been like this,” I tell her.  “This is who I’ve always been, but you were too blind to notice.  Every time I threw your justifications back at you, you backed down…you were weak, but then so was I.  If I was strong enough I wouldn’t have done what I did and we wouldn’t be here having this conversation.  Instead we would still continue on as we always did.

            “No…It would have only continued for so long and then it would have ended eventually.  The way I existed…I would have destroyed myself sooner or later and if you ever realized that it would be too late.  Nothing would change.  No matter when this happened, it would be too late.  You were always like that.  You never realize anything until it is too late because it’s not that you really want to know what is happening, because you don’t.  Like everyone else it’s so much easier to care only for yourself.”

            “I’m not—”

            “That is not what I’m criticizing you for,” I interrupt her.  “In that case I’m not different than you are.  You had one chance to realize before I would always be one step ahead of you.”

            She stands up and turns her back to me.  I can almost imagine her close her eyes as her mind races.  She’s thinking about the past, trying to figure out where she went wrong.  There are several things she did wrong and she has to realize at least one of those things.

            “I’m leaving,” she says abruptly.

            As she makes her way toward the door I ask, “How does it feel?”

            She stops and turns to me.  Her eyes somehow look older and I am sure that it was me that led her to age so quickly.  She is disappointed in me and perhaps she even cared for me, but in years she would forget me.  At least she would try and I certainly wasn’t going to make that easy for her.

            “How does what feel?”  She asks, her body in a posture much like a caged animal.

            “To be human.”

            She turns away from me, hurrying away from me.  I can’t help but smile, knowing that this will be the last time I will see her.