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Things my mother taught me before I turned 27
Always keep a stash of pills somewhere in your bedroom. Uppers and downers. Break in case of emergency. Wrap them up in tinfoil and stick them in your pocket, your purse, under your tongue. You don’t want to be left hands shaking in the airport thinking of all the ways you might die in the next few hours.
Don’t fuck on the first date. Take it slow and get to know each other. Don’t move too fast. Or do. Whatever. You should know early on if you’re compatible in this way. It doesn’t change your worth whether your knees are pressed together or you’re on them. Better to know now that he doesn’t care to make you cum rather than down the line when you’re stuck in the love.
You’re lucky to be young and alive. Mostly young. You won’t appreciate your youth while you have it, you will mourn it when it’s gone. You will always be a little bit 21 and brokenhearted no matter how old you are, but it’s more fun when you look the part and your heart aches worse than your back.
Make your own money. Do not be dependent on anyone else. Always be able to leave or you will wake up one day with the never ending job of a housewife doting on a husband you hate and eating those pills you stashed.
Give yourself the chance to change your mind. Give yourself the option. Always leave room for your future self to run headfirst onto whatever path she wants. Do well in school so you can be a doctor or a dropout. You never really know which one you’ll want later on.
Don’t settle. Love isn’t always enough. This is true of friends, boyfriends, family members (especially your dad).
When someone you love mentions something they like, get it next time you’re at the grocery store if you can remember. And while you’re there, only buy the store brand items and don’t forget to use coupons. But be thoughtful and be generous in all the small ways.
You will love and be loved again. She tells me this, but I’m still waiting to find out if it’s true. God, I hope it’s true.
Friday November 22nd 2024 8:41-8:42am
Woman with coffee blossoms and coffee berries, El Salvador, 1944
Photo by Luis Marden
The seasons here change but sometimes overlap.
saywasp
Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.
ig credit: adventuringbeth.
“Letters from Medea”- Salma Deera