I can’t do anything else with these thoughts today. I’m sorry.
Somedays I just really love my mother,
Who tells me I’m normal,
And it’s okay to not like most people.
Don’t fall in love with a writer,
We suck your soul dry and pretend it was sand to begin with.
You know how they talk about girl next door?
He’s like boy down the logging road.
He’s beautiful in such a wonderfully normal way.
I had a glass of wine, she had the rest of the two bottles.
I have the signs of the untried.
And I’m scared to know how far I’ll go to please you.
I don’t want to be trapped with children,
I don’t want to have to deal with humans
I don’t want to be stuck at home, because I know I’ll feel responsible.
Today, it’s me.
I’m sick and homesick,
And I can’t stop talking about where I’m from.
I don’t belong. I don’t belong and I’m weird.
I feel bad for being myself, that’s a new one.
I want to tell her, she’s beautiful.
But that will be condescending.
I long to be the drunk angry Bette Davis in the movie where she wears a green dress with pockets.
God what’s it called?
She was so full of,
Not caring-ness, beauty, and passion.
I love the few times I can be in that mood.
It is so much fun.
It’s Emily Gilmore when she’s running around without a skirt.
It was me last week,
When that woman I always know is there,
Came shining out for a minute,
She doesn’t really care,
And doesn’t really love,
And it doesn’t really matter,
We’re better than you.
And we know it.
God it’s wonderful.
I don’t really mope over men,
I’ll be fine.
I tried explaining this to my roommate,
We don’t really love people, they can be nice distractions,
We’ll be fine.
Hilariously, beautifully fine.
I’m going to put my hands in my pockets now.
And turn my head to the side and smile.
You can’t touch me.
Maya, I’m feeling like a phenomenal woman.