Tag Archives: bitch

Selfish

My greatest desires are for solitude and anonymity. Neither of which are possible especially now that I am bringing a new life into this overwhelmingly intrusive world.

I am a selfish ass bitch, always have been, mostly with my self. I am an only child which automatically gives a person the right to be selfish but I have taken selfishness to an entirely new level. I am not talking about the kind of “no, you can’t have a cookie, they are mine” kind of selfishness but the much more destructive kind that causes a person to withdraw from reality without any consideration for those who still reside in a world where people say “hello”.

I am secretive and sneaky as shit when I need to be. I became an amazing liar, mostly to myself. I faked a life and almost succeeded at death before I realized I was so full of shit that I could barely breathe. Terrible way to die, suffocating on your own stinking shit.

Opening myself up, airing out my rotting cavities, hanging my bloody panties out on the fence, staring into my own asshole just to see what’s in there. Offending my senses, arousing my curiosities, I peered further and found that I am not just a selfish alcoholic on the verge of collapse, that I am flesh and blood, that I am real.

Now that I am pregnant and feeling more “real” than I ever could have imagined, I would hope that I would lose some of my selfish ways and see shit from some entirely new plane of Motherhood consciousness that I should somehow have gained access to. No such luck. I am feeling even more selfish, more reserved and less communicative than ever. But I am remaining positive that the destructive nature of these emotions are being put to good use and with all hopes of a positive outcome for the kid. I am positive because now the basis of my selfishness is founded solely on love. Love and a huge amount of “get the fuck away from my kid or I will kill you” sort of emotions.

Fuck, all I do is contradict myself. In one afternoon I address and mail about 100 invitations to a baby shower that I am halfheartedly committed to and then suddenly and belligerently swear off all human contact simply because I couldn’t fit into my fluorescent Hawaiian gown.

As I resign myself to black stretchy yoga pants I realize what I am really feeling (besides the kids knees pounding into my ribs). I am afraid. Afraid of the moment when the kid is no longer just “mine”. He is going to come out and be a part of the world. He will be held by other people, cuddled by family and friends, stared and cooed at by strangers and licked by my dogs. His toes which once tickled my insides will soon be kissed by lips that are not mine. My selfish ass bitch self is fucking angry about this. I want to scream out, “He is mine motherfuckers, back the fuck off!”

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Filed under Alcoholism and other Assholes, Fashionably Unreasonable, I am Pregnant, Something that happened

Freeway fist fight

Nightmares all night long

Doors falling off cars on the highway, hanging, suspended above the road.

Man killing woman, behind closed doors, the sound of flesh against flesh.

The impact of body against wall, crashing down around me.

I try to gather the birds but they keep changing, hummingbirds become parrots, songbirds become pigeons.

“Walk home, you know the way.”

I make my way through a crowded ghetto, men with guns in each hand and women with babies dangling from their necks like jewelry. A dice game takes over the sidewalk, nowhere to walk, “Bitch, watchu doin here?” Dark clouds hide the sun, acrid smoke burns my eyes, stifles my breath, don’t look concerned, be cool. An intersection filled with Baptist Sunday service church goers in gospel regalia, purple satin flowing in nonexistent wind.

“Green light, Bitch.”

Interpretation (inspiration)

Freeway, fighting, cars, chaos-

Yesterday I saw a car pulled over on the freeway and 3 boys were outside of the car on the shoulder, 2 of them were fighting, I mean seriously fighting. One of the boys was getting fucked up. I thought for sure the one boy as going to shove the other into traffic. Obviously we didn’t stop nor was anyone else stopping to assist so I have no idea what happened. I wonder if all 3 of them got back into the car and drove home? Maybe this was a normal afternoon for them, leave to pick up some groceries for dinner and stop on the freeway for a fist fight, makes perfect sense.

However, the fighting in my dream was going on between my parents, memories of which have scarred me for life as well as their 7-year-old lab mix that I inherited. For years everyone thought that she had epilepsy because she would have violent seizures pretty frequently. She was prescribed large doses of mood altering and brain disrupting medications to treat this disorder. After my Dad passed and she came to live with us she had a couple of seizures which I chose to treat with a little less medication and a more calm atmosphere. Gradually I weaned her off of all her meds and she hasn’t had a seizure in about 2 years. She didn’t have epilepsy she had parents that fought constantly and tore the house down around her.

Birds-

In chaos we try desperately to cling on to something familiar, even as the familiar becomes less and less so.

Ghetto-

Put on a brave face through the worst of the shit and you will eventually cross the street.

I truly feel that I have “crossed the street”, I am in a better place mentally and emotionally than I have been in years. But I will never fully escape the tortures that I have endured on the other side of the street, nor would I want to.

On a side note:

Whenever I wake up from an awful fucking nightmare, the kind that leave me breathless and shaking, I shove ice cream into my face until I am calmed. Only now I digest it, fucking weird.

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Filed under I dreamed...

That bitch Rosacea

Today, the hideous beast escaped again and shit all over my face.

Rosacea, you evil fucking bitch.

I am hiding behind mounds of concealer, foundation, powder and mascara.

Can you see me?

I am all I see,

everywhere I look there is a reflection of the face I am trying to run away from.

I spend hours trying to hide the evidence, applying, reapplying, erasing, filling every pore to capacity, I am never satisfied. The lines not right, unevenly placed, ill defined.

And now what? What is it for?

I am hiding, no one will see me today.

 

 

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Filed under Feels like Sunday, Uncategorized