posting my old google docs

[sluttygollum]

"Do I Terrify? Again.

“Do I terrify?” — 

He does not think so for some reason.

I look at him like I am peering through a telescope. His mind could not be farther than mine. Yet I peer deeper still and see it. He is so lonely, like me. Yet not in the same way. He yearns in the physical sense. He sees my breasts and my curves and my slits– this is what he truly wants. A physical release of self. Losing yourself to the passion of the moment and throwing yourself in it until you are nothing more than pleasure and pain and the moulding of one body unto another. So I let him, for it is so much easier to surrender than fight. Who cares what I want? I can provide this release to another no matter what I truly want. He will take it for himself anyway. So I may as well delude myself into believing it is what I want too. The throes of passion that are taken, yet not given freely. We will both pay a price, not yet determined in the current moment but the prolonged moments of time that will come.

I grip his shoulder and peer into his depthless eyes. The kind that have already peered into the near future and determined their own pleasure. He sees me as nothing more than something he can take and take and take. So I let him. I spit and spread myself with the slickness of the passion ever present. At least I am wanted in one way or another. So I part myself and let him slip in. Roughhousing me and releasing me into a moment where I don’t quite have to “be.” I squirm and scream into the darkness of my heart, hoping that this will at least light her up for a moment.

I have already shed my skin. Like I do every month, I set her by the shore. My real self whom I abandon and abuse for the sake of feeling even if it is the worst. 

He has never seen me before, yet he knows my beauty and his lust must equate to love. It always does with men like him. They see my eyes and my skin and my bones and they know they love me even if it is only a glimpse of the surface. Little do they know, once they see me shed layers further, they will see how terrible I truly am. On the real inside. I can shed and shed and shed and shed and shed. Then they will truly see what they are up against.

But not until they are so entangled.

Leave it in the cage, they say. I am nothing more than property, but not my own. I wish it was OK to stay inside and wish no more. Why does my heart long for so much more, when it is no longer there? I feel like a mistake. 

Your sick in my hand. I stroke and I please until I have you fully in my grasp. Where I can pull and tug until you are sure you love me more than anything. I will entangle you with my web and my Self until you cannot take it anymore. All I have left is to shatter you into nothing. And nothing you will feel.

You will never feel anything like me. A mystery and a plug for your rage. I take it and take it and take it and take it until You cannot take it anymore.  Will reflect you until you squirm and burn under the heat of the microscope.

For I have no self, so all I do is reflect yours. Your own self– reflected into you with a million, billion mirrors until you hate yourself but you hate me more. Because you cannot leave yourself ever, no matter how much you want to. So you leave me instead. And hate me instead even more.

Then I am alone to shed and shed and shed again and again and again and you hate it and you hate me. I hate to say it– that I hate me too. But I always have.

[sluttygollum]

Do I Terrify?

“Do I terrify?---”

I hope so. I hope you never understand.

To horrify. Or better yet, to confuse. To unfold in such a way that you cannot comprehend nor so much as trap. Ever again. To look in a mirror or a thousand mirrors and still never get the full reflection.

To be born without a mother. Reflecting back empty air in a billion mirrors without so much as a portrait to portray. Emptiness stares back at you and grabs you by the teeth. And smacks you with the force of longing for a different life. One long ago, maybe before.

I want to rip my Self and my soul to shreds. Born into the wrong way and desperately crawling to find one in which I feel correct. I rise into the sky, breached in the blood of myself and my love and my forebringers. A million years of crawling to you and I still cannot reach you. The magic is gone, maybe was never even there. But I cling to it like I cling to the idea of you or maybe even the real you.

Soaked in blood like a portrait of my heart. She beats it full and then releases it. Soak me in the covenant of our souls. The one that transcends time and transcends the shedding of myself.

A thousand and a billion lifetimes in every way and It still is not right. 

Why does change always come at a cost? I shed and shed and shed. Until there is nothing left. Not even a mark to gratify. To prove that change has taken place. It dissolves into thin air. I dissolve into thin air.

My teeth are sharp and I sink them in deep. Ripping and shredding and gnawing at what is before me. Myself. Rip her to shreds! Kill her! 

I do not belong and I never have. I never want to, yet I want it with my whole entire heart. More than anything ever. 

Just a small connection. Just one person, myself, to ever peer into my soul and then peer back into my eyes without fear. Swallow me whole and spit me back out, clean and fresh into the cold, frigid air where you can then hold me and keep me warm. Then hold me close to your heart like I am essential to its beating.

Can we come together? Until we fuse– skin and teeth and minds where every last thought of mine is the beginning of yours? 

I beat you down with my pain and my past but it only builds you taller like a tower of clay. You mold it with your strong hands and stronger heart until it looks nothing like the mere mound it was before. Now a vessel and a beacon.

She does not belong and she never ever has.

Where will she ever belong? There is no place on Earth. In her bosom, I preside. She nurtures and grows and evolves, but I cannot without this pain. Does She always feel this pain too? A million, billion instances of the slightest change with the greatest agony, and yet we destroy.

We cannot bear what we have become and it is so awful and so wrought.

There is no fear, yet my mind is so… clear. Meddling and muddling these feelings with what is not there. And never will be.

[sluttygollum]

Short Story circa 2014

I was only two days away from the trip of my dreams. Back in December my sister convinced me to enter a stupid contest to win a free trip anywhere in the world that I wanted. Convinced that it was a scam and restless because I hadn’t traveled since I graduated college, I decided to enter my name and stupidly, all my personal information. I also had to fill out a survey to confirm my most desired destination and other paperwork for the details, but these were minor things. Luckily, this did pay off and late in March I found that I had been the official winner of this sketchy contest. I didn’t let myself get excited about it just in case it was a scam. But seeing as I was two days away I could barely contain my excitement. I couldn’t give my sister the satisfaction of knowing that this was probably the most exciting thing thats ever happened to me though. So I acted like it was no big deal that I would soon be fulfilling my childhood dream of traveling to Rome. My major goal in life is to travel the world and explore culture and the number one destination on my list has always been Rome. Or at least some other destination in Italy.

Some other perks of this contest are the private jet to your vacation, all expenses paid, and the fee for entering the contest was almost nonexistent. Already having packed and unpacked about about a dozen times, I was very anxious and the prospect of waiting two more days was killing me. But lucky for me the remaining wait was only borderline agonizing and before I knew it a long black limo was pulling in front of my house to take me to the private jet. I felt a rock in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t distinguish between excitement and fear. Planes were never my thing but private jets were a different story. I ate food and watched movies and slept in the utmost luxury. Of course I had done my research beforehand and knew that the flight from California to Rome was quite long. But seeing as I was enjoying myself so much the time literally flew by. Before I knew it we were landing in Rome. I could almost smell the french bread and spaghetti that I would no doubt be scarfing down all week. I packed up my belongings from throughout the plane and prepared to step out into the sweet foreign air. 

I stretched my legs and strutted off the plane and out into the bright, midday sunlight. Taking a big gulp of air I almost sighed in relief when it caught in my throat. I expected beautiful mountains and landmarks that I had obsessed over since childhood and the scenery before me was a shock that i was not expecting. Surrounding me was cities and traffick and it was nothing at all like I expected Rome to look like, it was painfully similar to the city from which I just came from. Completely sure that we had landed in the wrong place, I turned around to address the pilot of my jet. Despite my complaints, I was ushered indoors so the last few details could be set. The shocking realization hit me the instant that I walked inside to see the touristy maps and help centers. I was in Rome alright. Rome, Georgia which happened to be smack dab in the middle of the United States.

[sluttygollum]

2015 Short Story Pt. 2

As I left midday for the airport I felt the crashing tides of the city dull down and the larger than life buildings and the larger than life people seemed like small bugs compared to the grand world I was just about to enter. It was only my second time ever on an airplane and it had been a number of years since my last flight, so I was anxious. There was only a 12 hour flight until I reached the land where the next chapter of my life was to begin and the thought made me dizzy with fear and incredulity. I was going to a small town in Africa to help build homes for people who didn’t have anywhere to live. I was going to make a difference and change the world, no matter what anybody said. I was convinced that if I wasn’t able to destroy myself then nothing would be able to.

I boarded my flight and settled into my seat in the back corner of the plane by the window. At first, I was too excited to do anything, so I found myself fidgeting and jabbering and looking out the window more than was necessary. Eventually I calmed down and started to read a book, one of my small pleasures in life that I hadn’t enjoyed since I was little. After a while, this too became boring and as night was cast across the sky around me, I felt my eyelids begin to droop. With my last moments of lucidity before drifting off, I found myself gazing out my window into the vast clusters of stars in the night sky. I felt all the hope they brought me and all the meaning they had developed for me and felt how lucky I was to get to experience such beautiful things as stars. Then I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and welcomed sleep with the dreams of the future.

I awoke with panic and fear already set deep within me and knew that something was wrong. I gathered this from the freezing air all around me and the tight hand that grasped at me and kept me from taking a breath. I was submerged in salty, frigid water and there were men and women and children thrashing around me, trying to find something to hold on to. I surfaced and looked around me at the fiery wreckage of the plane and corpses strewn throughout the water. Even though it was night and too dark to see much, I saw thick dark water mixing with the waves around me and knew that I was bleeding out. It was strange though. I had no pain or fear or desperation like many of the other people surrounded me were paralyzed with. Instead, I floated on my back and let myself drift to wherever I would be taken. The world that we knew was ending and there was little we could do to save ourselves It was almost unfair.  I gazed upwards at the small specks of light scattered throughout the universe and felt the waves lap over me and through me and beyond me. I felt all of the hope and the happiness and the sadness and the love and the pain in the whole entire world at once and knew that it wasn’t worth nothing. Everything that has ever been thought or spoken or sang or written or drawn matters to the universe more than we could ever understand. So at these realizations I spread my arms out and took one last look up at the night sky and a sort of peace took over me that I had never known. Then I took a deep breath and closed my eyes and welcomed death with open arms, ready for my next big adventure.

[sluttygollum]

2015 Short Story Pt. 1

Ever since I was little my dream was to travel. Every new destination held different excitements and memories. No matter where in the world I would be going, I always knew there would be something dazzling and dizzying. I planned to fill my life with such rich memories and stories that they would be passed down through my children and their children and more. Coming from a small town in Nebraska this was a common dream with my peers. But the truth was most of these kids wouldn’t make it anywhere in life. Poor education, and misplaced ambitions, these kids would probably grow up to inherit their parents jobs. We were so isolated that some people seldom knew there was anymore than that. But I knew, I knew that we lived on planet Earth, the only planet that has sustained life (as far as we know). There were endless possibilities and I knew deep within my bones that I was destined for much more than this. Growing up I spent 90% of my time invested in books that showed me these possibilities, taking me far away from the tedious town that I grew up in. From there I grew a deep obsession with escaping and going to all the new places in the world and learning everything there is to learn. 

So when I turned 18, I started my long journey. This began with a plane ticket that brought me to New York city. At first the excitement and relief I felt for getting out of Nebraska kept me numb to the hardships that sustaining yourself entailed. But after two months of barely scraping by, I felt a cold bitterness settle in my chest. I was stuck in a big city filled with empty people, I had no food, I had no money, I had a terrible part-time job, and life was nothing at all like it was supposed to be. It was supposed to be big, and beautiful, and filled with every possibility. I was stuck and a darkness unlike any before had settled upon me. I felt the hopelessness that many people have described as a crushing weight. 

Eventually, I dragged myself to college and started to pick up the pieces of myself that I had discarded as trash. I was finding little pieces of self-worth to cling to. Life had gotten better than my first winter in the real world, but I still felt an emptiness within me that all my hopes and dreams had once filled. I didn’t feel the happiness that others felt, I couldn’t fully appreciate moments either. But I still had fun with my new friends and I did end up making memories that I knew I would tell my children one day. I still had potential no matter how many times I told myself that I was useless. At least I was a nobody in New York City rather than a nobody in Nebraska.

There were still some nights I felt all the pain and sadness crushing me all at once and I felt that I would never again find happiness. On one particularly bad night in the summer a few years after I had left my old town I found myself at the top of a skyscraper in Manhattan. One of the pals I had made in college had access to the building and we sometimes found ourselves up there smoking and drinking, trying to pass the time. I had associated this place in my mind as a kind of escape, so that is exactly the way I intended to use it. I wasn’t drunk, but I also wasn’t in the right state of mind. Thinking back, I was a 22 year old kid from Nebraska, I was one year into college, and I hadn’t made any steps to fulfill my life goals. After I left home I had cut off all contact with my friends and my family thinking that all my old ties would somehow hold me back from my grand purpose in life. I meant absolutely nothing to the universe or anybody for that matter and there wasn’t a shred of spectacularity in my body. I truly was nothing and I felt the true loss of the person I had always wanted to be. That’s where I found myself sitting on a ledge on a tall skyscraper in Manhattan at 4 in the morning. Every emotion in the world was crashing through my body, tears slipped down my face and the wind unsettled my hair. The world was narrowing around me until the only thing left was the ledge I was sitting on, the ground far below and the spatter of small twinkling lights coming from the city before me and the vast space above me.

I was right on the edge when I was hit with a realization that shook me to my core. I was young. I was so young and even though I denied it to myself at every turn, I was full of life. In fact, I was bursting with it and the fact that I was just about to waste that on the streets below me revolted me. Looking down and seeing how close I was to ending it, I didn’t feel the sadness that had plagued me for so long, I felt something new. I was scared. Why was I so scared? I was young and gifted with sight, and touch, and smell , and sound, and taste. I could do anything in the world. I slid myself backwards of the edge and landed with a thud onto my back onto the roof. I just stared at the stars for what seemed like hours and soaked in all their meaning and wonder. As long as there were stars in the night sky, I would not be worthless to the universe. Every star in the night sky mattered, if there was only one single star missing it wouldn’t be the same. It was the same with people. I did matter to the universe, but I only needed to prove it to myself. I needed to make life changes if only to ensure that I really am worth something to myself. 

That night I made a promises to myself. I knew that if I fulfilled my promises that I could not go wrong. So, a few weeks later I was working three jobs and going to my classes still and working my ass off even though it was agonizing. Of course it was worth it though because exactly one year after that night on the roof of the skyscraper, I was able to take the first step to fulfilling my dreams. I bought a plane ticket, took time off of college, and quit all three of the jobs that had enslaved me for the past year. I didn’t feel the sadness that had once enclosed me. I now felt all the possibilities on the horizon, and let the feeling wrap itself around me until I could no longer breathe. My flight was set for one week later and the future never looked so bright. [CONT].

[sluttygollum]

Phase 1

I’m walking backwards out of fear. Into the jungle. Into the abyss. Unknown. Even more so in the dark by my own doing. Walking backwards along with everyone else. Leading somewhere unimportant. No emotion felt. Choose to face forward and SEE what is before you. See what scares you and scare it back. Feel so sad and scared, knowing everything, seeing everything. Into the jungle. Into the abyss unknown. It’s clear which is easier. And which is braver. But which is right? 

I don’t know.

[sluttygollum]

Phase 4

Swimming pool full of viscous black liquid. Jump in. Feel it fill every pore and crevice and disappear forever. Fuck you.

[sluttygollum]

Rotted, Rancid, Repugnant Roommate

Rotted. Someone that is so spoiled beyond belief that they have begun to rot from within. Rancid. Someone that is so genuinely unpleasant to be around because they are truly that awful to their core. Repugnant. Someone that causes so much turmoil and conflict within other people’s lives, usually for their own joy. Roommate. Someone you cohabitate with, whether you like it or not.

Part 4- The Snake.

You, let’s call you K, are the very essence of a rotted, rancid, repugnant (and probably republican) roommate. 

You are a stereotypical, privileged, narcissistic– and this is the most important part– Neurodivergent Queer White Woman ™. This part is important because you use it as your armor! NO, you cannot and will not take accountability for anything you do because you have ADHD :( and are a gold star lesbian (you make sure that everyone knows you are better than them!). In reality you’re just a pick-me and a TERF, which is super duper gross. You truly believe in your heart that you are the only person in the world, or I guess we would call that “main character syndrome” for sad little people like you. But you’re GOOD at pretending! God, I truly convinced myself that you were actually my friend, that I wasn’t just a punching bag for you and someone to endlessly build your ego off of. I’m mad at myself for letting you use me as a doormat for over a year, but I have to remind myself that you are ABUSIVE and HATEFUL and not many people are able to stay strong in those situations. You constantly mocked, belittled, and snubbed me in the most subtle ways, jokes you would probably call them. But it takes a certain kind of person to systematically tear someone down to nothing over the course of months, and then this is the best part, you are still ALWAYS the victim! Always! I made the mistake of trying to talk to you about how awful you had been making me feel (and for blatantly stealing my food), once I finally clocked it. From there, you have made it a point to make me incredibly uncomfortable– dare I say miserable– in my own house (that I rent for the same amount of money as you). And that’s another fun part, you totally remind me of my abusive step dad in the way that you constantly made me feel like I didn’t do my part around the house, babe, I clean MORE THAN YOU. But that brings us to your apparent OCD? It’s so silly how that only seems to be the case when it is convenient and Quirky ™ enough to mention. You always copy me and then pretend like I am constantly copying you. Sweetie, you are 21, tacky, and SUPER annoying. I promise that I have never and will never try to fashion myself after you in any way. You expect endless empathy from others and yet don’t have a shred of it within your black soul. I feel so drained every single day that I have to be around you. You are also not subtle at all with your passive aggressiveness, I see through you and at the end of the day, I feel really bad for you. You clearly have something broken so deeply within you that you take it out on other people. Well, unfortunately for you, other people hate you just as much as you probably hate yourself. Just like your entire cross country team hates you for bullying your “best friend” into killing herself. Yikes, I should’ve believed them, but again, you are so GOOD at pretending. 

All in all, this is truly just meant to be an open letter to someone I hate so deeply (for now). I know once I am free of you I will be so much happier and will probably not think of you much. I am in therapy and I have a wonderful, loving family– I recommend trying some therapy and medication yourself– or let’s be honest, maybe you should be locked up somewhere before you can terrorize anyone else. (Quick aside, her sister is a total homophobe, republican MAGAt– maybe that’s why she’s so angry deep down?). In conclusion, K, please go the fuck back to Texas and STAY THERE. Being from Austin does not make you cool or special or really anything at all. You are still a horrible person no matter where you go or what you do:)

[sluttygollum]

Juneau 8/2023

Juneau daydreams. She’s not special, or pretty, or smart. Not even secretly. NO, Juneau is just regular. And boring and she stays still all the time. Not literally, or physically, but thats much worse right?

For all intents and purposes, let’s say I’m Juneau. What do I want? What am I doing here? Who gave me the right to walk around and make decisions because what the fuck? Still dramatic. Still boring. Still still. I’m Juneau and all I have ever really wanted was to go on an endless adventure. See what there is to see and go where there is to go. Sure! Yes, thats what I want. But I also want so much more. What else is out there that we can’t see? Where we can’t go? There must be places that exist within and beyond and among the stretch of time before and behind us. Layers and layers of inexplicable matter and meaning. That’s all the world is really made up of. The universe is matter, which cannot be created or destroyed. There are so many lattices and intricacies to the networks of existence. Is there a way to climb these latters? Enter the metasphere and dissolve into the processes of the world until every little fiber has rid itself of any shred of recognition. Always forming into something new, barely tangible. There has to be! I refuse it to be any other way! There must be instances of magic and joy and secrets before our very eyes, yet too big for us to explain or interpret. Now THAT is what I want. I want to feel every portion of it and feel the terrifying thrill of being unapologetically alive. 

There’s a knock at the door. My spiraling ruminations are shunted by the banging. Thank god something has brought me back down to reality. Who are they? Just some long lost friends, don’t you remember us? I don’t. Why is my memory so bad? If these are my friends shouldn’t I recognize my friends? So I do. I say yes, now I remember. Because I’m Jeaneau and I am not particularly smart, or pretty, or special. Maybe just existing the way that I am is my first mistake. I know we are lying to each other and I don’t know why and I don’t care. These people are taking me to my next adventure and I know it deep in the pit of my stomach. It is a roiling, nauseous type of fear that is visceral and hardly able to bear. Why am I going if I know that these aren’t my friends? I guess we will just have to wait and see to find out.

 Nobody talks and I love it. Empty silence with no hope of being filled is the best kind of silence. There is no way to pretend that the next thing that comes out of someones mouth isn’t some bullshit just to fill the gaping, empty space caused by the silence. What is so bad about silence? It leaves the perfect amount of space for thinking and imagining and knowing that there are so many millions of things in the world for me to explore and guess and wonder about. Or maybe it is the perfect excuse to spiral into the void of my own thoughts. Helpless to myself, my surroundings, even the people around me until SNAP-- and I’m out of it. I hate being out of it. Why does the real world have to interfere so often when it is seldom actually wanted.

We’re here! I don’t now where here is and I dont know why, but I dont care! The adventure now begins.

[sluttygollum]

8/2023

Picture it. The sky. For miles in all directions the soft orange sky reflects back from the viscera in your eyes to show to bends of the earth in each direction. The stars, a million a minute, hurting toward and past like cars on the highway. Each little pinprick of light like a needle in your retinas. In a nice way. And the breeze. Whipping hair back and skin flaps and all moisture, wicking away and whipping into the wind, gone forever. You’re hurtling! Crashing, Spinning, yet seamlessly gliding through the sky. Forward. Out into the great abyss beyond. Is it a canyon? The reverse of a canyon, stretching deep and wide beyond all possible perception, dwarfing all around it. You are going here! You belong here and you alwaasy have. Sweetly, softly, silently floating through all of space. Hurtling actually, but it feels serene to you. There is something special about returning the place where you belong. It feels a brick just barely stuck on the lip finally sliding into place like a puzzle piece, making the picture whole of course. Is there an end goal? How is it going to end? Does it matter? Not really haha. But there it is. A massive looming black hole, your final destiantion if youre lucky. But alas, you are not. You miss. The calculations were off yet again. You look around at all the useless floating bodies all around and near you. The other failures. Ah well there is no point in thinking about it too hard. More will come and sail past and by and through and maybe one day. One day they will be lucky enough the enter the void. The black hole beckoning to a place beyond and between.

[sluttygollum]

My Unraveling Pt. 2

I burst out laughing. No, that was really funny! They always are. The bugs that is. They are all over me and inside me and woven into the very fibre of my being. I am made of bugs. As they squirm and crawl and wiggle amongst each other. This is my flesh. And it speaks to me. It makes me cry and laugh and sing and dance. At least I am never alone.

[sluttygollum]

My Unraveling 2/12/23

She cracked a bone. It was subtle at first. Then she did another and another and another. Mauling herself, mangingling herself, ripping herself to shreds. Ripping away every oily layer to the rotten core. She has been rotting from the inside out for a while now. But that’s what she wanted! God she hates herself so much! Is it sad? Not really. It’s the reformation. Like Lady Lazarus herself she rises from the ashes. From the fire in her core. She lit it herself. And let it smolder there for centuries. Until it burned her down to nothing. For millions of years she has roamed and raved and cried and prayed. WHERE IN THE WORLD DO I BELONG?! She cries often. She often feels nothing. And everything. And the worst in-between. This is no world for such a being. Wanting to be seen. But again she is nothing and nothing is everything for isn’t that all we know? God it’s sad and it’s beautiful and it’s scary, God it is everything. To live in such extremes. She would never recommend to anybody. But it is such a raw and real way to experience the world. She feels the burn deep in her gut of shame and pride and lust and fear and very rarely comfort. WHERE IN THE WORLD DO I BELONG? It doesn’t even bother me anymore. I dont know what changed. I dont even hate her. She is so intriguing to me. Why is she this way? God we know she didn’t choose it. Her twins did not go through this. Does being alive always feel like being lit on fire in a million horrific and awful and amazing ways? What is the price of being stable. What is the price of being free. Am i already paying both while simultaneously missing the point of it all? Does fitting into a mold feel so much better than the malignant twist in my spine and my discomfort in the spot im in right now?

Her name is lazy

Her name is crude

Her name is jaded

Her name is blue

Her name is bitch

Her name is weird

Her name is uncontrolled

Her name is put on a pedestal

Her name is never good enough

Her name is do I really want this? 

Her name is I really need some help

Her name is I hate you so much

Her name is I love you even more

Her name is a million things

Her name is nothing.

[sluttygollum]

I Wish I Had A Different Mother

I wish I had a different mother. 

I really really do. 

Someone smart and cool and interesting and fun and easy to talk to. 

Someone I can tell things to and enjoy spending time with. 

Someone that has been through shit and helps me get through my shit and understands the world a little bit. 

Someone magical and full of life and with a spine. 

Someone that will actually love me unconditionally. 

Someone that is real and scary and excited about things. 

Someone that is strong and powerful and wise. 

Someone beautiful and sparkly from the inside out. 

Someone kind and forgiving and understanding and healing and knowing.

I want a real mother, I really do.

Why  would anybody want to be estranged from a parent?

Why would anyone want the void in their life having to leave behind a parent brings?

Why would anyone want to feel hollow and unloved and unlovable and irreparably broken?

Not someone that just sits there and obeys. 

Not someone that hates and belittles me. 

Not someone that calls me a bitch and an abuser and ungrateful. 

Not someone that chooses an actual abuser over me. 

Not someone that hates me and doesn’t care about me and only ever gives me money so she can still feel a shred of control over me.

Not someone who only ever wanted a baby, not a real human to raise.

Not someone that listens to an abuser call me the worst things known to people and still choose them.

Not someone who never takes responsibility for anything.

Not someone who comments on my body and weight at any cost.

Not somebody who looks at me like a bully mean girl from high school.

Not someone who doesn’t show interest in my real life.

Not someone who makes millions of excuses for themselves but can never have sympathy for others.

Not someone who yells at me and talks bad about me behind my back. 

Not someone that makes me feel unsafe and unwelcome all the time. 

Not someone who blames all of their problems and their children’s problems on me.

Not somebody that can’t take responsibility for their actions.

Not somebody that doesnt know how to communicate.

Not some fake nail whore on her 8th marriage.