theres no fucking way i was ever going to wait around while you chased a truth that you made up in your head. you can idealize every piece of trash that floats through your life as a message from god- but its fucking not and you dont get to waft in and out of everyones lives just because you think youre following moses across the red sea. youre just running. and drowning and i cant fucking save you if you think youre flying.
-he was trash, and so was the guy before him
Tag: prose
The universe speaks to me so clearly that I often confuse the messages with karma. All the good gets countered with the bad and it just turns into a big, messy tug-of-war with my happiness. Messages don’t have to be decoded. You don’t have to read them with your horoscope and make charts and graphs to react. Your first impulse is often the best one to act on. But never be motivated by the negative. Accept your responsibilities, not the fate. Nothing is written in the stars unless you put it there. They are only stars. Sometimes they’re just waiting for you to draw the lines.
a million people screaming
their voices: loud and tall
my ears are fucking ringing
but my mouth won’t move at all
i try to scream, gurgling ink
you must think im braindead
but theres far too many people talking
to let you in my head
A.
isnt it about fucking time to stop writing memoirs of the men who broke us A.
no one would blame me if i couldnt find the energy to get dressed today. being a mom is tough. who cares what i look like anyway? no one would blame me if i crashed as soon as the kids went down for a nap. they are SO exhausting. no one would blame me for ordering takeout tonight. how can i cook when i barely get a chance to breathe?
no one would notice when the dark comes creeping in. it happens at night, when the kids are mine and no one elses.
no one would notice when i am too busy to answer the phone or text back- must be changing diapers.
or suffocating.
no one would blame me for being sad. its “normal.”
but when everything is black as night, and there is only one way out-
everyone will blame me.
blame me.
– ppd
A.
hey whats up im back. i had a baby. got real sad.
i dont know what they call it anymore. but here i am.
i didnt kill myself.
i wont hide from my notebook anymore. i unburied it from all the bukowski and poetry until it was all that was left on my nightstand. i miss the way my pen feels between my fingertips and i hate that my silence is louder than my presence.
i want to write about it but my heart wont pump the ink out. but here i am.
alive-ish
luckily there is no shortage of bullshit going on in this world to piss me the fuck off.
i live for the rage on my worst days. but most days, i live for me. and the beauty that my life can be. thanks for waiting.
A.
I am pregnant. 22 weeks + 1 day. Maybe I should have written about this sooner- just to give my readers a little more insight as to what is happening in my life right now, but you’ll have to forgive me. Because I’ve already forgiven myself.
As a pregnant woman, growing in the age of social media, I have found myself trapped in one of the most unforgiving stages of my life. I’m not quite sure how it became this way. I have heard stories from so many women of past generations, speaking about how they lost themselves in pregnancy: the most guilt-free period of their lives. I wonder when that period ended.
I have been “blessed” with morning sickness, a diet of saltine crackers and bile. If you’ve ever had morning sickness, you know that it does not end once the clock strikes twelve. It ebbs and flow with every smell that passes your nose, every change in temperature or increase in humidity. It comes back when the sun gets too bright and when your husband touches his fingers to your skin. It wakes you from dead sleep and pleasant dreams. Every sound too loud will send you sprinting for the bathroom. It makes it impossible to gain weight for your baby, clean, cook, go to the grocery store, work, or change the toddler’s diapers. But you have to. Because you are a mom. And you have been “blessed” with morning sickness.
I spoke out about this a lot with my first pregnancy, begging for relief, suggestions, compassion:
“Try ginger tea”
“Try ginger candy”
“Try ginger ale”
“… Crackers, water, bread”
“Just eat whatever you can to feed the baby”
“Just smile through it, you have too many obstacles ahead to start complaining now”
Doctors told me it would go away after 13 weeks. In my first pregnancy, I was “let go” from my job for having missed one day of work. I stayed home, vomiting bile when I couldn’t hold down water. I sat in a dark room, cringing at the sight of any bright light, any scent other than my own. At 13 weeks it got worse. I was prescribed medication that I could not take for (proven) fear that it would give my baby heart defects. More advice:
“Go out for a walk”
“Stay out of the sun”
“Talk to your doctor about ____ medication”
“Aren’t you worried that drugs will hurt the baby?”
“Try smoking weed”
“Weed will give your kid brain damage”
“Why can’t you just suck it up”
“I wish I was that thin when I was pregnant”
“You should really be gaining more weight…”
The last time I got sick during my first pregnancy was 35 minutes before my son was born. It was just water. My son weighed 5 lbs 12 oz, born at 39 weeks. I gained 10 lbs throughout my pregnancy. I lost 3 of them during week 37. I walked out of the hospital weighing 5 lbs less than I did before I got pregnant.
I am 22 weeks + 1 day today. I have gained 2 lbs since getting pregnant. And last night I broke blood vessels throughout my entire face while vomiting. I have been “blessed” with morning sickness. And no, I have not found relief. I do not want your suggestions. And most of all, I do not expect compassion.
–A.
It is not your obligation- as a friend, lover, sister, or mother- to fix them. No healthy relationship will ever require you to drain yourself completely of happiness. Don’t ever empty your cup into someone else’s, just because theirs has a crack in it.
A.
i was your sunshine when skies were gray
but when the skies cleared
you called me “rain”
I notice myself getting softer with age. I care more, I hurt longer, I’m empathetic towards people I never cared for when I was younger. But that’s what happens when you focus less on how the world has wronged you, and instead focus your energy on how you have wronged the world.
When you seek out my help, I will lend you my hands. If life fills you with sadness, I will catch your tears. When your mind brims with worry, I will open my heart.
If you close your eyes, you will never see the kindness that others are ready to give. Love will seem ingenuous where the greatest intentions lie. Your perspective will sour the words of people who once showed you the greatest kindness.
Growing softer does not make me weaker. It makes it easier for me absorb the pain. To catch the tears. And dance in the rain.
A.
Memoirs of a Millennial 