Music is what feelings sound like
– Victor Hugo
This girlchild was born as usual
and presented dolls that did pee-pee
and miniature GE stoves and irons
and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said:
You have a great big nose and fat legs.
She was healthy, tested intelligent,
possessed strong arms and back,
abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity.
She went to and fro apologizing.
Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs.
She was advised to play coy,
exhorted to come on hearty,
exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out
like a fan belt.
So she cut off her nose and her legs
and offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay
with the undertaker’s cosmetics painted on,
a turned-up putty nose,
dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn’t she look pretty? everyone said.
Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.
So Kamil is incredibly sweet and smart and we get along really well.
If there’s a problem with this here, it’s with me, actually.
I’ve kind of moved to this point of preference for being alone, and have just…I think my dream in life was living alone, having a full-time job and being alone. Like I had given up on love being an actual attainable thing in this world for me, after the past go-round I’m just too afraid of what can happen and looking at relationships my friends have…ugh.
He’s extraordinarily ambitious, and just…I don’t know, he’s encouraging me to do more with my life, go back to school, quit smoking, take better care of myself. It’s all positive changes, and he’s trying to do the same.
But I guess I have such a history of quick moving relationships and controlling partners that I’m a little gun shy about this.
I am falling for him, and I think he’s giving me a little more space, actually.
I guess I have to push past my own discomfort here…I wish I was responding differently,I suppose. It’s just that love=pain to me, and after watching my last partner continually destroy himself with alcohol (alcoholic, born with liver disease, progressed to advanced cirrohis by the time we were together), additionally abusive….
I guess I’m afraid of having more damage, but I also feel like this is all unfair to him.
Like, prior to this it’s been close to two years since I’ve been in a proper relationship. The poor man had to put up with me literally shaking the first time we were in my apartment alone together.
I also feel like I’m holding back my emotions and thoughts too much, and he’s unsure of how much I like him.
Wish the world was different in so many days. My country is represented by an irrational toddler, my best friend is pretty much dealing with her pregnancy alone, I know a single mother raising a child with HIV….there is just so much pain in this world.
Oddly enough, a few people have commented on me looking tired/depressed lately… I’m starting to draw/write a bit more, it’s been a while since that’s been a thing, still in search of a volunteering gig that works with my schedule…I feel like I’m cresting on the depression getting better, but it’s painful at the moment.
I guess the”hah” here is that I’m the one person who finds a nice boyfriend and somehow manages to turn it into a depression fest.
Me, circa 2014: up for days on meth, convinced she is writing a work of genius, unsure of boyfriend’s whereabouts and beginning to suspect jail or death as options.
2017: Excited because neighborhood stray cats now come near her and she owns a teapot.
Working on a pot of chamomile as we speak.
Oh, I can smile for you, and tilt my head,
And drink your rushing words with eager lips,
And paint my mouth for you a fragrant red,
And trace your brows with tutored finger-tips.
When you rehearse your list of loves to me,
Oh, I can laugh and marvel, rapturous-eyed.
And you laugh back, nor can you ever see
The thousand little deaths my heart has died.
And you believe, so well I know my part,
That I am gay as morning, light as snow,
And all the straining things within my heart
You’ll never know.
Oh, I can laugh and listen, when we meet,
And you bring tales of fresh adventurings, —
Of ladies delicately indiscreet,
Of lingering hands, and gently whispered things.
And you are pleased with me, and strive anew
To sing me sagas of your late delights.
Thus do you want me — marveling, gay, and true,
Nor do you see my staring eyes of nights.
And when, in search of novelty, you stray,
Oh, I can kiss you blithely as you go ….
And what goes on, my love, while you’re away,
You’ll never know.