Which is a calendar month after. Hitting my brain hard. All the emotional symptoms too.
Fumbling.
The memory of smoke
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Saturday, January 2, 2016
Fool me once
FIL pushes us to send xmas card to blind 100+ grandmother son barely knows, I do not. I find her a lovely little music box, wrap and send it. Hear through son/DH it got there and liked. I do not get thanks directly. I know this is petty, but dear fuck, why not?
Not going to be guilted into more, ever again. I don't mind not being thanked, but I assume that more will not be appreciated, so why try again? Not a chance. I hate being pressured into obligation I do not agree I have in the first place. Act out of general kindness, am ignored.
Screw it if they try to put me on the spot again. No. No thanks. I'd rather not.
Not going to be guilted into more, ever again. I don't mind not being thanked, but I assume that more will not be appreciated, so why try again? Not a chance. I hate being pressured into obligation I do not agree I have in the first place. Act out of general kindness, am ignored.
Screw it if they try to put me on the spot again. No. No thanks. I'd rather not.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
November 28
Sour grapes, I've decided. Working ovaries keep my connective tissue in shape. Protect my heart.
So, whatever.
So, whatever.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Just in case I can't find it later
THE HEART REMEMBERS EVERYTHING IT LOVED
Everything remembers something. The rock, its fiery bed,
cooling and fissuring into cracked pieces, the rub
of watery fingers along its edge.
The cloud remembers being elephant, camel, giraffe,
remembers being a veil over the face of the sun,
gathering itself together for the fall.
The turtle remembers the sea, sliding over and under
its belly, remembers legs like wings, escaping down
the sand under the beaks of savage birds.
The tree remembers the story of each ring, the years
of drought, the floods, the way things came
walking slowly towards it long ago.
And the skin remembers its scars, and the bone aches
where it was broken. The feet remember the dance,
and the arms remember lifting up the child.
The heart remembers everything it loved and gave away,
everything it lost and found again, and everyone
it loved, the heart cannot forget.
- Joyce Sutphen
Everything remembers something. The rock, its fiery bed,
cooling and fissuring into cracked pieces, the rub
of watery fingers along its edge.
The cloud remembers being elephant, camel, giraffe,
remembers being a veil over the face of the sun,
gathering itself together for the fall.
The turtle remembers the sea, sliding over and under
its belly, remembers legs like wings, escaping down
the sand under the beaks of savage birds.
The tree remembers the story of each ring, the years
of drought, the floods, the way things came
walking slowly towards it long ago.
And the skin remembers its scars, and the bone aches
where it was broken. The feet remember the dance,
and the arms remember lifting up the child.
The heart remembers everything it loved and gave away,
everything it lost and found again, and everyone
it loved, the heart cannot forget.
- Joyce Sutphen
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Leave you there by yourself chained to fate.
Mom, all the times you protected me from the outside world? You did more damage than the world ever did. You neglected and manipulated and let me take your husband's wrath you nasty rat.
Gnaw on it in solitude, I won't explain now.
Gnaw on it in solitude, I won't explain now.
Saturday, October 17, 2015
What is the deal with making this even worse?
Started yesterday morning. Found this story today. Could be worse.
As though it weren't bad enough, though.
As though it weren't bad enough, though.
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