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“I got a disease, deep inside me”

The hypochondriac in me is really grappling with this Alzheimer’s/Parkinson’s. (I can’t make the line above look right on my iPod and I’ve given up.) I still don’t know which it was. M said one thing. A said another. It wouldn’t surprise me if mom told them two different things. Hell maybe she didn’t have any idea herself. Maybe she really lost her mind at the end. I’m glad I didn’t see that. I like to remember her as smart. I do still. Maybe not street smart but she was always reading. She was bad at picking men. But that doesn’t mean she was bad at everything. I don’t know who to ask. I treat every family message as a time bomb. The only aunt I was close with isn’t a blood relative. And I dunno if she’s still in the family. Plus everyone is so wishy washy and take forever to get back to me.  Every time I get the shakes I think about it. Migraines bring the shakes on. Holding my arm wrong can do it. It happened yesterday in bed. Is it a nerve or is it a sign of what’s to come? And...
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“Poor language, doesn’t deserve such treatment.”

I have been a birthday brat for as long as I remember. Something about sharing a cake (usually chocolate because the smaller kid always gets what they want and I was always the oldest), sharing a party, and still being “forgotten” by my step grandma turned me into a birthday monster when I was older. People laugh at me for it, and I know it’s immature but much like the cartoons I can’t get enough of, it didn’t seem to matter what other people thought. I’ll admit I felt a little embarrassed by it whenever more adult  people would mention my birthday obsession. But then I figured screw that, I need to celebrate me sometimes. A birthday is as good a reason as any. B tries, but I find I amble between thinking something HUGE is going to happen (very much like Jess from New Girl) or being very meh about it all.   Ever since COVID I just expected to get a meal out of it somehow. Either delivered or going out. Hell even before COVID it didn’t take much. Just doing SOMETHING made the d...
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Comparisons are rarely kind.

Sitting in A’s house, enjoying the company, the music, the hard spritzer. Excited to be among people and have real conversations. Sublime comes on and I cringe and look at B to see if he notices. He doesn’t appear to be on fire so I guess he hasn’t realized.   Not even twenty minutes later, he says  “I like your playlist, A” and I’ve been slightly annoyed by it ever since. Not because he likes her music. No, I’m annoyed because it’s all music I have and listen to and I NEVER make him listen to Sublime but I’ll never get that compliment.  I smile but my tone feels bitter when I say “huh, you must’ve missed Sublime in there then?” He agrees he didn’t notice. I’m miffed but am not sure why exactly. Maybe because I try to pick the best songs that I hope he doesn’t hate? Maybe because I put so much thought into it and it’ll never be recognized? He doesn’t even know how I obsess over music and not being annoying to him since I’m here all the time. How I turned off Crime Junkie ...
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Trigger warning. Childhood SA memories.

I  tried to put this in trigger warning brackets around the worst, most detailed part (in my mind because dissociation is real!) of this post only to realize it’s all terrible. Don’t read this if you’re already on the precipice of sadness. Definitely don’t read it if you’re close to having that last straw break you today. My need to have people get me thought I could just tell you to skip a few paragraphs but it’s all terrible. Every word in this post. Read at your own risk I guess.   My cousin sent me a message on Facebook. The first of many surprisingly random messages from my family.  I  was angry, that was my first feeling.   Of course she felt a connection with my mother. Everyone loved my mother. She was fun. Smart and sarcastic. I care a little too much what others think of me so I feel like I do the same thing. I’m a joker because I want people to like me.  Which was what made it harder to be okay after I felt abandoned. What had I done? Why wouldn’...
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Make it mean something.

These words seem to be on replay since last week in my brain. I’d been dealing with my alcohol relationship. Trying to trick my brain. My doctor told me that’s the best plan, and I’ve been stepping my imbibing down ever since.   But make it mean something is there, waiting. It seems fitting that my over indulgence of alcohol seemed to really set in after my dad died and now is the time to make my mother’s sudden death matter.  Recently I saw a poem that asked if it was the floods or the droughts that made others run away and I’ve been wondering ever since. All the time I was sure it was the floods and suddenly I’m realizing it’s often the droughts. I don’t know if that’s good but I can’t seem to connect.  I find myself doing it now. Retreating into myself. I don’t know what to say or maybe I don’t know what I’m SUPPOSED to say. Everything I have said feels a little flat, aside from the sharing of my own memories on Facebook. Flat or mean. The easiest thing to say to put p...
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It almost seemed like a bad dream.

Why was this even happening?   I didn’t want to be dating this asshole. Somehow we’d gotten here. I thought I was badass. I could handle anything. I’d been abused for so many years. I was free finally from all that and what did I do? Find an asshole to ruin my life. It wasn’t smart. I wasn’t smart.  There had been moments. Great bits even.    Things that had thrilled me. His bed had cuffs for wrists. A sense of letting go. Being restrained. But there had been more moments where everything was awful. Moments where he’d pushed me to do things I didn’t want to. Moments where he put me down or acted disappointed by something I did.  So. I’d strayed. I’m not sure now but I feel like I did this so it’d take the choice out of my hand. If I cheated and he caught me, it’d have to be over, right? I hadn’t even really tried to be in a relationship. He’d tricked me with my dumb pride. But now it was clear I was screwed.  He’d taken me hiking and promised me a present a...
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Girl - don’t be that guy’s secret girlfriend!

  I spent time on campus. I don’t even remember how but suddenly I knew this guy. He seemed nice enough. Memories are like gossamer threads so I don’t even know how I met him. Now I feel like I was an easy target but I only know that somehow he ended up telling me he had a crush on me. He said this and I couldn’t believe it.   It’s bugging me that I can’t remember how I met him. I remember meeting doorbell Chris the first time. But that’s a different story. That’s why I’m writing this all down. It likely won’t matter but maybe someday after I’m gone, someone will read my stories and laugh or cry or feel things at all. I’m already lost of some memories, meanwhile, I can remember the lyrics to hundreds, maybe thousands of songs but can’t remember how I met this guy.  I was on campus. It was a space to spend time and I had tons of it. I’d spend my days sleeping if I had to catch up, but mostly waiting for the nightlife. My friends. The people who entertained and accepted me....
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