Even after all this time,

the world doesn't matter

Made an ass
I might have made an ass of myself tonight. I found someone who is hurting the way I am, but for her, the hurt is more recent. She seemed to understand that while her pain is new, that my pain is the same, it's never going away. I appreciate her foresight.

(no subject)
I hate being alone right now.

I just can't do it. I can't be anyone's savior. Not even my own.

Meet some random person in a Facebook group about taking a shit and posting a selfie. He asked me to watch him masturbate.

It was hot for about two seconds, until I had to return to the real world where I'm a mother and my baby is crying.

Now this person is threatening to kill themselves.

I am not his savior. I am nobody's savior. Not even my own. And I know this because the past may repeat itself. But not this time.

It's never going to be the same.
You're gone. I can't feel you, I can't see you. You're gone.

I remember all those stupid poems written about you, thinking you were gone. But you were there. And now.....now, you're gone. I'll never get over it.

(no subject)
Everything I read is far more poetic than anything I'll ever write.

(no subject)
Did we ever think that any of these words would ever reach far enough? Far enough to reach those of us that are less than 500 miles apart? Well lately I've been inclined to think not. Because it's true. We are so disconnected that it really. Doesn't. Fucking. Matter. Any. More. Girl is sick. Man goes to jail. Who cares?

Nobody reads this anymore. Not me, not my friends. By friends I mean people who still give a shit about LJ. People who still give a shit about LJ that I actually know in real life.

I'm a mother now.

And no matter how many people, and how many times, tell me I'm "doing a good job" at this motherhood thing, I still feel.......wrong.

I feel like I'm disconnected.

I love my daughter to the point that looking at her makes me cry. She is perfect, she is pure, she is literally the future.

But.....I'm not always there. Physically, I'm always there. Mentally, I'm having a hard. fucking. time.

How could anyone ever deny that tiny face anything?

Snow | Naomi Shihab Nye
Originally posted by exceptindreams at Snow | Naomi Shihab Nye
Naomi Shihab Nye

Once with my scarf knotted over my mouth
I lumbered into a storm of snow up the long hill
and did not know where I was going except to the top of it.
In those days we went out like that.
Even children went out like that.
Someone was crying hard at home again,
raging blizzard of sobs.
I dragged the sled by its rope,
which we normally did not do
when snow was coming down so hard,
pulling my brother whom I called by our secret name
as if we could be other people under the skin.
The snow bit into my face, prickling the rim
of the head where the hair starts coming out.
And it was a big one. It would come down and down
for days. People would dig their cars out like potatoes.How are you doing back there? I shouted,
and he said Fine, I’m doing fine,
in the sunniest voice he could muster
and I think I should love him more today
for having used it.
At the top we turned and he slid down,
steering himself with the rope gripped in
his mittened hands. I stumbled behind
sinking deeply, shouting Ho! Look at him go!
as if we were having a good time.
Alone on the hill. That was the deepest
I ever went into the snow. Now I think of it
when I stare at paper or into silences
between human beings. The drifting
accumulation. A father goes months
without speaking to his son.
How there can be a place
so cold any movement saves you.Ho! You bang your hands together,
stomp your feet. The father could die!The son! Before the weather changes.

(no subject)

having conversations with my boyfriend about LGBTQ issues is always a fruitless endeavor. ugh.

Let's just say.....

The Paul shit never ends.



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