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I sometimes wonder what it would be if Mrs bitch ass hoe never said that shit to me like she did. I’d probably still be friends with her and I wouldn’t have been as close w people I’m friends w now

#Abby post #maybe everything happens for a reason #bleh #yap #bored #af!!

And It Is Happening Again

You wake up, again. It's morning, again. You dress, and brush your teeth, and wash your face, and comb your hair. You bare your teeth at yourself in the mirror: you are a monster, a beast, an odious gremlin, a dirty little grub in your little grub dirt.

The baby cries from his cradle.

You get him, again. He's hungry, again (he is always hungry, they both are, always). His brother is hungry, jealous, biting your arm because he's too big to be at your breast anymore. He leaves toothmarks. You wonder how big they will be someday in the future.

There is no moment to yourself. Every bit of your existence is dedicated to remembering what you've given for them. Your aching chest, the pale stretchmarks splitting your smooth, tan skin, the bitemarks on your arms, the dark hollows under your eyes, the way your smile doesn't quite fit the way that it used to, the way that you look at your work, your projects, the things you would use to make your name, and despair. When is there time, anymore, to be me? There is none. It is time to just be Mother.

You felt free, sometimes, with her. Like you would float into the air on wings you spontaneously grew. Would have given her the moon from the sky, just for making you feel like that. Everyone putting her on a pedestal, even you.

A pedestal of empty spools. You want to untangle her hair from yours when you rise in the morning. Bring her soup when she is sick, press your lips to her forehead to see if she is feverish. You want the mundane, everyday simple love of folding her socks in pairs, of laughing at sneezes and burps and farts, admiring the way she frowns when she's thinking, sighing because she tossed her boots in the walkway. Is it really so bad, you think, to lift her up, just an inch off of the ground? Just so she knows how it feels to fly?

You know this feeling. You felt it once before. Maybe you have changed, but it is happening again.

#abby post #creative writing