& You Have Watered

& you have watered

The flower, petals gleaming

I open for you

paramore’s performance of last hope at bonnaroo 2023 was life changing for me and i think we all moved on a little too fast

dead on the street

I severely dread grocery shopping. It reminds me of how I am a living being that must take care of itself. Even when my mind is clear as can be (which, frankly, isn't very), grocery shopping generates so many useless thoughts that don't stop bouncing around my skull like pissed off ping pong balls. That's too many calories. That's not enough protein. You can't justify that much money, you'll never even eat it. That expires in less than two weeks, it'll kill you. Those people just watched you stare at sliced cheese for five and a half minutes. Why don't you just get the same thing as always? You're sick of it already? Of course you are. Don't get that, you won't even cook it. You hate cooking. No, you won't cook it, and you know that. You're too lazy. No chips. No chocolate. You can't spend $6 on a gallon of iced coffee, but you can spend $10 a day each morning at Dunkin'. No, you won't eat that. Go ahead, put it in your basket, it'll sit in the fridge for the next eight months. And so on.

I left Target with less money and somehow even less confidence. A wave of utter upset hit me as I sat in my car. But drive I must.

The drive down a smooth road rimmed with foliage and the sound of my current favorite songs wash away the upset for a few minutes. Up ahead on the bend, I see a bird flutter down from the greenery, and swoop under the car about 30 yards ahead of me. The car does not break or swerve, as they probably didn't even see it. But then the car passed, and left behind was the bird. Belly-up. Flapping its wings but getting nowhere. Suddenly, seconds turned to minutes. There were no oncoming cars, so I respectfully drove around the victim. I moved back to the right side of the road, and slowed, looking wide-eyed into my rear-view mirror. There it was, still laying on its back, flapping its wings. I slowed more, and started to pull off the road. But within seconds, I made the decision not to stop.

I continued driving. In just one second, I thought of all my options. If I pull off, it might be dangerous for me. I'm clumsy, and I don't trust other drivers not to hit me. If I picked it up, I couldn't take it home. I'd want to. But there's nothing there for the bird, its late in the evening, and I can't afford a vet bill, and I have no idea how to care for it. I could put it on the side of the road. But it's already got one wing in the grave. The chances of a predator coming for it are higher than ever. If it doesn't die from the complications of the impact, a larger animal is sure to eat it. And I feared I would end up sitting on the side of the road with this bird for the rest of its life. I would, if I could. If I could abandon all reason I'd run off with the bird, heal it, and live in the woods with it. But I'm going 40 miles per hour down a two lane road with no shoulder or side walk. So I keep driving.

And to think, I get so worked up about grocery shopping. If that bird's life was so precious, I would have helped it. If my life weren't so precious, I'd leave it. If we were equals, there would be no hypotheticals. Hours later, I'm still wondering who's life is worth more: a robin that was hit by a car, or a 21-year-old teenager that can't figure out how to take care of herself.

i’m grateful for the good in people, and how kind they are to give some of that goodness to me. ❤︎

no longer mine

Most days, I can look out the window and let the breeze remind me. But other days, it refuses to penetrate my heavy fog of despair. I will sit there and ask it to go by. I may even beg for it to. But those days do not allow it. There is an insufferable fluid in the air that separates me from reality. And this fluid - the breeze - they work against each other. The fluid, the fog, they surround me. They keep me in. The breeze cannot cut through this tangible dampness. Most days, it can remind me; the fog is cleared and I can feel the breeze once more. But other days, the strength of the stifling fluid in the air is too much for the breeze to bear. It is too much for me to bear. When there is no breeze, no window, no sun, the fluid drowns me. I can walk, talk, survive, yes, but live? The fog does not allow me to live. It stifles and drowns from a layer just beneath my skin. My body may still operate, and you may ask it questions, it may answer you, but it is not me. I am trapped beneath the choking blanket of fog that rests under my skin, and it seeps through, forming a sort of bubble around the body I inhabit. The body you talk to, laugh with, work alongside - that body is not me. I am on the inside, screaming, begging for control. There is no breeze to ask for, there is no window to sit by, and the sun is gone. I can do nothing but wish for this body back, plead for another chance at autonomy. But the fog will grow stronger. The fluid will clog my ears and nose and tug at my eyes to shut. It knows, both the fluid, and the body, that even if I did have my chance at control, I’d waste it. The fog reminds me that I will miss my shot every time. My body ruins itself in efforts of aggression towards me. I sulk next to it, dragging through the fluid. There comes a point where I ask myself if this is now “most days.” Because “most days” used to make sense, they used to be mine to seize. But even with the window open and the breeze coming in, it seems like most days are no longer mine.

Just a girl Whether or not I figure out this floating rock’s lifeless meaning, I’ll still just be me. Each and every instance craves a moment of truth. A moment without fogged memory or clouded judgement; a peace of mind, if you will… If that peace of mind, if only it would come to fruition. It may very well never do so. Not for you, nor for myself, or anyone for that matter. Why is that?  I’d rather just read and play games. At heart, I’m just a girl, without a worry in the world, content to just be.  A pressing question like the meaning of life would never bother a little girl. I wish I were never able to fathom that.