the hair, praying, functions
I don’t pray because when i used to complain to my mom about how I've prayed and prayed and done all the logistically good and my cough still isn’t better and that damn pimple still isn’t better she’d say “think about how much worse it might have been if you didn’t pray”
I’m living on hard mode. It doesn’t help me to think that maybe there might have been a harder road for me to take, for me specifically. I don’t think like that. I want my life to be like a function, a nice mathematical function where there is one single output for every one single input
I want it to be a derivative, too but maybe that’s just being picky but see I really like the expression “my life took a big turn, a curve ball, what say you” it makes it sound like whatever you were doing at the time of this sudden development had nothing to do with you, like there was some omniscient presence that decided that you, sir, would be in a car accident that you had no control over.
No. It wasn’t god. It was statistics. Sorry, but that’s what it was. Your big sharp turn that your life took? It’s not a big sharp turn. It’s a curve. I want it to be a curve. All of your friends won’t leave you overnight. All of your thoughts about yourself won’t change immediately even if your physical abilities might have. It takes a minute for everything to catch up. A curve.
You can choose to make this so it “fits with your life path” that this is what “god planned for you” but you know what? You could also just dye your hair blue so it’s more fun to look in the mirror, get a tattoo that hurts like hell but makes you smile, smoke some weed, and get on with it. You do the physical therapy. You take the medication. You listen to Andrea Bocelli and you read the Brené Brown because she’s so damn optimistic but has been through shit too.
I don’t want to think that I’ve been living some easier version of my life. All of the tylenol, the motrin, the cbd oil, the inhalers, the lotions, the vitamins, the antidepressants and arnica all of the things that separately sorta help and together sorta help because it’s damn hard as it is and i don’t want to think that maybe there is something else I have control over that I could be doing differently to help myself that would lower the resistance, set me on some easier course.
If something so simple as dying my hair blue so I don’t want to cry when I look in the mirror at the asexual oaf that I feel that I am, that I and I alone can make myself smile, then I want to do it. If that’s radical and unnatural and sinful and whorish than so be it. I’m not anime and I’m not goth and I’m not cosplaying. I’m just me. I’m trying to cosplay as someone who doesn’t live their life in constant mental and physical pain and if dying my shower tub fun colors every few weeks makes life a little easier and more fun, then bring on the magic erasers, let’s party.
