I am angry, furious upset. my memory is difficult, my perception foggy. what if it's all in my head? but I cant stand. i cant breath. i duck into your shadow. god I wish youd hit me so the evidence would be as plain as the "only once" you left behind on my child. you say once. never again. yet your weapon of choice is your voice. welded onto impatience and honed with inflexibility and superiority. I feel too much and I absorb what I see and I absorb your feelings- the ones you vocalize.
wishing we never had kids "just once, just venting"
wishing it was just us "just venting just once"
words like daggers buried inside me burried in deep.
but I cant point to it and be in pain not now not ever. cause you didnt mean it like that, and now it's been so long I'm only stirring up trouble. BUT THERE IS A KNIFE IN MY CHEST. there are hundreds of knives insecurities, fears, stress, the joint account, my debit card, blocks of text in my messaging app and swaths of paper with chicken scratched blame.
it is my fault, but not in so many words. there is a knife in my chest and you tell me to shut up about the knife.
I am uncooperative and uncaring and selfish so you treat me like a child and take away my phone but call me names like a bully.
and I am a pin cushion who's children sre weaponized against me, think of the children, think of the children, show me a photo of my littlest, throw back to this tiny thing.
this is not the first time she has been a dagger inside me. before she was even conceived she was a white hot knife of unnamed and unnoticed control. so desperately wanted but not my timing. not when I wanted.
but I still don't have a word for it. vauge and distant, with me unsure. big ideas bigger feelings and why cant i sort them all out beyond the feeling that something is WRONG.
my skin crawls at his touch I flinch internally at the raising of his voice. I can not think of words to say and nothing I can do please him. I am rushed and shoved into things and I forgot when the last time I couldn't wait for him to come home was, because now I scramble to make or more comfortable for him maybe it so he doesnt need to do any thing, so he doesnt say anything. I can't wait for him to leave for work so I am alone at last.
alone but not. free but not because I am a mother ontop of this BULLSHIT. I am a mother. with a job that wont cover rent once the divorce goes through.
I am a woman on the brink of disease looking in the mirror, i'm a woman who put tp much stock in the long term dreams, who is watching them fall apart cause i have to settle for every other holiday, while you say how brothe you are. how little money you have when I have less
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