miserable creature

was there ever
joy
in my life
have i always been this
miserable creature
i see
in the mirror
was my heart ever
a light place
or
was this darkness
just born to me?

so on top of a head cold, two of my sons had birthdays this past week. my seven year old was a difficult one. the pregnancy was physically easy, but emotionally a trainwreck.
dusty found a shiny new girlfriend while i was pregnant for poppy. that went on throughout the pregnancy, birth, & first two years of poppy’s life.
so, unfortunately, a day where i should feel happiness turns me into a puddle of misery as i remember how awful i felt for those years.

i wake up crying

i wake up
crying
i am
crying
for everything
about everything
the dead goat
in my garage
the toilet
that desperately needs
cleaning
my lost youth
clothes that no longer
fit
the blood that flows
out
of my body
the bickering of offspring
the
non
stop
bickering
of offspring
my own
shortcomings
my own
lost
emotions
my cold cold
heart
my being trapped
penniless
with no where to go
no one to love
me
no one will
ever
love
me
i cry for
everything
i wake up
crying.

there are probably better things i could be crying about. like the state of my country. the suffering of so many people…everywhere. the dying oceans. vanishing species. clear cut forests….
i wish i could rise above my own misery to find a way to help ease the misery of the world.
but my overwhelming life just crushes the life out of me sometimes.

blunt

my life is just
a series
of fuck ups
sorry you got caught
up
in that
maybe
they should just
launch me to the moon
send me
to the bottom of the sea
get me as far as fuck
away
from
anyone
everyone
i can possibly
harm.

i am so very sick right now. in a literal sense. my face hurts from my sinuses being all jenky. so i did end up binging some netflix because i’m not good for much else. but at least i was watching a good show–get shorty–as it has been made into a series now. so totally worth the binge.
and i do like an irish accent.
but here i am sick. and now my washer is broken. amid all the other things i need help with in my life & all i can do is lament that i have no one to take care of me…never did really…and it so totally sucks.
this journal page started as a text to my first husband who has started contacting me again after a long silence that began with my telling him i wanted to smash his head.
i’m not the best ex-wife…or wife…so why do both my husbands keep coming back for more? so confusing.
anyhoo.
i didn’t think i would hear from him again. usually if i just look at him funny he does a quick retreat, much less my threatening the consummate condition of his head.
whatever.
i don’t need another ex-husband in my life.
i need someone who is going to stay
& take care of me…but that is a hard idea for me to swallow…
that anyone would ever do that for me…because…well, i’m me.

a simple but damning curse on mankind.

once

i’m in love
with the idea
of someone
being
in love
with me
it happened
once
i met someone
once
who was in love
with me
i know it was true
because
i could smell
that sad & desperate smell
of love
on him
i know the smell
i know it well
as it oozes
oozes
out of me
me
who falls in love so easily
it is laughable
my heart
is a chasm
that only i
seem to fall into
except
of course
for once
when that other guy did
the guy
who
frankly–since i divorced him
i really don’t feel like
having him
in my chasm.

i dropped the minions off with their dad and while driving home listening to really bad middle of illinois soft rock radio, i started thinking about how much i want someone to be in love with me. how desperately i want someone to be in love with me.
and then i realized, other than the random guy who i married just because he was in love with me…i cannot bring myself to believe that anyone has ever been in love with me.
i mean,
i have been in lots–er, my fair share–of relationships. and they all say, “i love you.”
but i don’t think a single one of them was in love with me…except, of course, for the guy, my first ex-husband..who, actually, is still in love with me…or is just desperate & sad & we both mistake it for love…sometimes it is difficult to tell.

so i sit here.
drinking whiskey & being eaten alive by fleas…reveling in my sad desperation.
more journaling to come, i suspect.

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