glory! : i fucked up

washer

Goodnight my love Remember me as you fall to sleep Fill your pockets with the dust and the memories That rises from the shoes on my feet I won't be back here Though we may meet again I know it's dark outside Don't be afraid Everytime I ever cried from fear Was just a mistake that I made Wash yourself in your tears And build your church On the strength of your faith Please Listen to me Don't let go Don't let this desperate moonlight leave me With your empty pillow Promise me the sun will rise again I too am tired now Embracing thoughts of tonight's dreamless sleep My head is empty My toes are warm I am safe from harm...

Wednesday, January 10, 2024

i fucked up

during a breakdown i was having i told my mom. about the. um.

should i kill myself.

i find myself at the passengers seat of the tesla, begging my mom to love me. as i have over and over, as i will countless times more.

i went to the dermatologist and cried very hard. i had to leave. tomorrow i start school, im so nervous i could vomit. everything is so blurry.

im in the car as she goes to the dentista office. i sit here waiting for her to come and apologize for making me cry. i wait for her to bring me maybe a hot coffee or a diet coke so we can sit and i can tall to her about my fears and my goals. instead, im expecting her to call my dad so i can come home and they can ruin my life acting like its a consequence of my actions, like i had to now face their punishment as a natural consequence of being stupid, immature and bold.

i wait for her in this car and my face hurts from the visit to the dermatologist and im housing infections inside of my skin and i feel gross. and tomorrow i have classes. and my life is ruined again and i cant ever be happy. im sad about it. i lost an innocence i cant describe. i have a darkness to me i cant get rid off.

im fucked. i wish i was loved. i deserve mercy this time.

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sylvia plath, the bell jar

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olympic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn't quite make out. I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.

Psalm 18: 6-11

In my distress I called upon the Lord, And cried out to my God; He heard my voice from His temple, And my cry came before Him, even to His ears. Then the earth shook and trembled; The foundations of the hills also quaked and were shaken, Because He was angry. Smoke went up from His nostrils, And devouring fire from His mouth; Coals were kindled by it. He bowed the heavens also, and came down With darkness under His feet. And He rode upon a cherub, and flew; He flew upon the wings of the wind. He made darkness His secret place; His canopy around Him was dark waters And thick clouds of the skies.