Oh, brick it. I won't lie to you. I wouldn't. No, yes. Yes, I am scared, of some things.
I fear your glasses.
I don't get them. And everyone has them.
And, really, I don't get why he even likes me.. when I don't act and I don't really care what's about my hair, I don't care what I wear or how hairy my legs are. What the brick, I don't even care to shower most days. And I take pleasure in the fact that I don't.
Forgive me, too much, too soon.
I guess Confusion is what mostly strikes fear in us, yes. Confusion, that filthy brick.
I am scared it is too late to change. Everyone says we need to.
I'm afraid it's too late to start reading my scriptures. Everyone else is already in Mosiah anyways.
But I just can't stop thinking
and thinking
and thinking.
And you don't even know that this post is between pleading and screaming.
I can't stop thinking of how I'm "turning out". I am scared I will be a mother made of fluff. Nothin' but brickin' fluff, ya know. Yes, you know. Nothing but a bunch of cotton balls. AND THEY'RE NOT EVEN BRAND NAME. They're completely generic. Gosh, I don't know if they're even cotton at all.
I don't want to be the Generic Mom. Sun glasses and rhinestone studded jeans. Eye shadows and going to the pool only to read.
Watching your kids living the life you never had. Life you wanted. Life you think you can't get back. Damn it, you're only 42. You're not even half way to heaven, but you think you must now be unburdened with your own problems, only carrying crises of the ones you love.
And you don't even know that all the while I am thinking, my brain is screaming.
It's rubbing it's forehead and pulling it's stripped and dyed hairs out in chunks.
And, please, it is bleeding.
I cannot stop thinking of how I'm "turning out".
What is turning out anyways?! Maybe I already have, huh? Because teenagers are supposed to go through this faze.. and I've been this way my whole freaking life. --my whole bricking life-- I make subtle changes, but really, down in my core, I am always back with Anne of Green Gables and babies and Harry Potter and Zuaguario and Troon.
Hit me with a brick; hit me back to reality. Because my thoughts can eat me from the inside out.
So I say, brick it.
Because the world doesn't care how hard it hits you with it.
I fear your glasses.
I don't get them. And everyone has them.
And, really, I don't get why he even likes me.. when I don't act and I don't really care what's about my hair, I don't care what I wear or how hairy my legs are. What the brick, I don't even care to shower most days. And I take pleasure in the fact that I don't.
Forgive me, too much, too soon.
I guess Confusion is what mostly strikes fear in us, yes. Confusion, that filthy brick.
I am scared it is too late to change. Everyone says we need to.
I'm afraid it's too late to start reading my scriptures. Everyone else is already in Mosiah anyways.
But I just can't stop thinking
and thinking
and thinking.
And you don't even know that this post is between pleading and screaming.
I can't stop thinking of how I'm "turning out". I am scared I will be a mother made of fluff. Nothin' but brickin' fluff, ya know. Yes, you know. Nothing but a bunch of cotton balls. AND THEY'RE NOT EVEN BRAND NAME. They're completely generic. Gosh, I don't know if they're even cotton at all.
I don't want to be the Generic Mom. Sun glasses and rhinestone studded jeans. Eye shadows and going to the pool only to read.
Watching your kids living the life you never had. Life you wanted. Life you think you can't get back. Damn it, you're only 42. You're not even half way to heaven, but you think you must now be unburdened with your own problems, only carrying crises of the ones you love.
And you don't even know that all the while I am thinking, my brain is screaming.
It's rubbing it's forehead and pulling it's stripped and dyed hairs out in chunks.
And, please, it is bleeding.
I cannot stop thinking of how I'm "turning out".
What is turning out anyways?! Maybe I already have, huh? Because teenagers are supposed to go through this faze.. and I've been this way my whole freaking life. --my whole bricking life-- I make subtle changes, but really, down in my core, I am always back with Anne of Green Gables and babies and Harry Potter and Zuaguario and Troon.
Hit me with a brick; hit me back to reality. Because my thoughts can eat me from the inside out.
So I say, brick it.
4 comments:
I worry about what I am becoming all the time. I think we all have something that we go back to, to put us back on track to who we really are. You just have to find it.
Great post, your an amazing writer. Thank you, good bye
I worry about what I am becoming all the time. I think we all have something that we go back to, to put us back on track to who we really are. You just have to find it.
Great post, your an amazing writer. Thank you, good bye
"They're completely generic"
Son of a brick, this is good.
Love love love your post. Gosh brick it, I wish I'd known about your blog sooner.
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