here today

 

fuck

in class a few months ago we wrote fuck poems and read them out loud and really I just pretended to write one and I did not read anything out loud but instead listened to my classmates rant at their mothers and sisters and fathers and teachers and lovers and husbands. I listened to all of that Fuck Him and Fuck Her and Fuck Me and my throat closed up and I could not breathe in or out.

my mother (fuck her) used to laugh at me whenever I got mad and so instead of getting mad I would go cold and hard and stare at her daring her to find something funny in my silent fury. and she would and she did and thursday in therapy when johanna my therapist suggested that I yell at the person who stole my favorite jewelry I felt my throat close and my face get hot. is that anger? I wondered so we came up with a plan whih is that I will write my own fuck rants in this anonymous blog and i do not have to read them out loud.

fuck rant number one:

fuck the good girl in a white dress clutching blood red roses walking slowly towards hope that this time it will be different. fuck pinning all the dreams on one imperfect person who might not be there when you wake up or worse yet you might lose yourself in the wanting. fuck slowly creeping into silence and handing over each fresh note that made You not her not him. fuck early to bed and late to the day. fuck turning away from the raw funk of your own self. fuck not fucking for three days in a row because you can't imagine being touched when you are angry but the anger will not yet move away from your own skin.

Posted by: 120pages at 23:02 | link | comments |