i feel like
no matter how hard
i try to be
a good person
try to do things
no matter what
i am doomed
i’m really trying
that’s the thing
being a good
that i am
it was suggested by a beloved follower that my self-portraits could maybe smile. i couldn’t think up a smart ass response…so i drew one.
i used to smile constantly. i have extreme social anxiety & smiling was my way of satisfying the hordes that could not understand how terrified i was of small talk & social interactions. plus, being a girl in this culture, i was told to “smile” every time i did not smile. so i was one big explosion of smiles.
i remember one snarky girl at a party i was at when i was in my early 20s–i happened to be dating the guy she desired…but did not know that at the time–saying loudly, “does she do anything other than smile?”
death, single motherhood, betrayal, & heartache seriously dampened my smile. i sometimes find it extremely difficult to smile, in fact. sometimes smiling makes me cry.
but sometimes an authentic smile burbles up.
meanwhile. this is me. this is the smile i can muster without crying, too much.
constructive criticisms from a soon-to-be five year old who was watching over my shoulder as i drew this…
“you look nothing like her.”
“you’re not even trying.”
i am not safe
i am not easy
i am down to earth
i am right down to the
lava in my veins
i am the hurricanes
on the sea
i am the tornadoes
on the plains
i am the rain that falls
to create life
i am the moon
waxing & waning
& pulling the tides
i am alive
i am not safe
i am not easy
& in my experience
i have found that nothing
note to all you well-meaning men–if you aren’t interested, just say, “no thank you.” don’t make excuses. don’t prolong the inevitable. don’t rationalize & make nice. just fucking say, “no thank you.”
if there is need for further explanation, we will ask for it.
i told guy to “be safe” after he pleaded “ptsd” and “not being that the kind of person to be sponateous” and “having too many responsibilities” to have a rendezvous with me.
first off, raise your hand if you don’t have ptsd.
my ptsd has ptsd.
also, i have severe social anxiety.
yet i still reached out to him because i feel that the day i let my fears dictate how i live…i am no longer alive.
and who doesn’t have responsibilities? my whole life is responsibilities…which is exactly why i, for one, was dying to do something spontaneous.
i texted him that spontaneity is good for the soul.
he channeled somebody’s super fuddy-duddy father to text me back about not being able to do that for this & that reason.
why didn’t he just say, “no thank you” from the get-go? i am honestly wondering. this is not a rhetorical question of mine. i would ask him, but he shuts down communication with me pretty good with his fuddy-duddy father voice. i’m all like, “yes sir,” as i scamper away to look around for someone else to play with.
so i told guy to “be safe.” i was being snarky, but thanks to text messaging ambiguity, he has no way of knowing that. (unless he reads my blog…but i don’t think he is that invested considering he turned down a booty call thinly veiled as an invite to a h.s. reunion….)
he said, “you too.”
and that inspired this page.
i don’t know how
to be human
i just want to
chew my arm off
i’m crawling out of my skin tonight…crawling into my wolfskin, i guess.
i am terrible at human interaction…and sometimes i am even trying not to be.
which makes it all that much worse when i fuck it up.
after these three pictures are done
there will just be five more pictures left
which is very exciting to me
i am a little over my deadline–
the autumn equinox (tomorrow)–
but i think my work is good?
i mean, i sometimes hate it…but oftentimes i feel
empowered by it.
witchy woo and goddesses
and my minions now look at the bunny and say,
i closed down my facebook page, my personal one, that i started when i abandoned ship on my original facebook page.
but then i went back, and started it up again–as a back up plan.
then, this week, with depression deep in my socks, i hated everyone for not just fucking taking a minute to “like” the self-portrait you can find in my previous post (and “like” it for fuck’s sakes. it’s cool)
so i shut down the facebook page where i had lots of friends (well, not “lots,” but more than i have on my other facebook page…if you are still following this rant) because i felt neglected.
and i am now on the facebook page from when i first went on facebook…just months before my brother died. the facebook page where i unfriended all of my right-wing friends & relatives before abandoning said ship.
let’s try this again….