Saturday October 18, 2014
from a comment on a photo on Facebook
I was tired from running around the house from my deranged mother. Turns out you tell her to shut up one time and it’s… I don’t know, over, I guess. I should have known better than to run from her. Should have just let her hit me right then and there. The more she runs the angrier she gets, which, makes sense, so it’s my fault. But she chased me up and down stairs, everywhere, everywhere. Finally, I thought, no, I cannot do this anymore, so I surrender. I just threw myself on the floor underneath the dining room table, and I gave up. I think she needed to catch me more than I needed to escape. So I let her hit me a couple times with her wooden spoon. It hurt. A lot. But I guess it was sort of a release for the both of us. Dad had only been gone for 3 days, but those three days without him really felt like more than enough. We both cried while she was whacking me. There was a moment before it ended where it actually felt okay. It felt like something was real again.
Friday May 23, 2014
overheard on the streetcar
Oh My LANTA!!! ABBY!!! You’re looking like a real woman these days aren’t you! I can’t believe it, you’re so tall now. And look at those cheeks! Where did they even go? When you were little you used to have the chubbiest, fattest cheeks, I used to pinch ’em and tug ’em and cover ’em with so many kisses, my goodness, you used to hate that! Oh honey plum, I don’t even blame you! The whole world wanted to squeeze you dry, girlie, oh yes they did. I’m sorry about that now, but oh! I couldn’t help myself, they were just so darn big! And this dress you have on, let me take a look at you. Oh wow, spin around again, that is one heck of a figure you’ve got, now don’t you! I bet you drive all the boys crazy with those legs for days and days! Oh Abby, I used to have legs for days and days before the varicose veins and the knee surgeries, let me tell you a story! You know your father’s the one that bashed in my knee with a baseball all those years ago! I was pitching to him and he hit a line drive right into my bank account! I joke about that now because he felt so bad and all those treatments cost so much money cause I could barely stand! Oh but you!! You look wonderful!!
Saturday, June 29, 2013
I want to take up boxing so when I hate you I can just hit something. Something hard like a punching bag, or your skull. Maybe the art of boxing is really all about getting a realistic hit in…realistically I’m not taking lessons so I can better hit an inanimate object, right? I don’t want to hate anyone but this feels like something I’d be good at. Something about agility and speed. Something about too much aggression to properly organize it all. I’ll be the one with the red gloves, just ready and calm, and not at all about to kill someone. That’s who I’ll be if I can choose. And when it gets really heated, I’ll just let go of all my instincts and restrictions and make a bloody man out of you. Or just a man. Or not a man, I don’t care. I’m going to get good at being angry. But in the meantime, I’m going to get good at punching the shit out of anyone who walks by me during my rage. I want to take up boxing so when I hate myself I can just hit something.