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This has nothing to do with anything exceptional as she doesn't know what she's going to write anyway just knows that this fix soothes her like a fix probably.
In fact, in deed.
here hear.
she wasn't sure of anything lately and had that comfortably numb that cost a lot.
it feels to her empty-ish.... drifting... eddy-spinning and besides she had a new thing to covet. The American Way.
She wanted those cowboy boots like...
and of course the grass needed cutting, the house needed cleaning. the bushes needed trimming. she'd do none of it unless she thought it was something she wanted to do. It was the joy of living completely alone - the unchecked lawlessness of it.
she felt sorry for the other lackluster possibility, yet he excelled at being someone for whom to feel sorry. she felt old all the time and wished she could be a better girl.
That had nagged her again today: she was like the most introverted boring non-feminine female she knew. sure, she could fuck and wear a skirt, yet she didn't know the first thing about how to be what she loved about them: the smell, the put together, the holding it all, all the products for one - THAT was so much upkeep... the upkeep on doing that beauty routing - and every day - and keeping up with fashions. the cost. As she told you ad nauseam she had only JUST decided to get the capitalist-grubbing razor out to conform a bit. She definitely thought crone stage dictated new measures. She was trying the style part and the wise part
yet nothing was coming together
and ornament? really a "never-needy ever -oving jewel whose light reflects on you"
yesterday my friends
oh yesterday.
she had been waiting to get hungry so she could do her old new Sunday thing that she hadn't done since she became not incognito. and did what she often did - tweak and toiletries and this charity home that one can't ever complain about has a wonky drawer acting as part of the sink vanity - and it's pretty much the only drawer - and it's a heavy one and it landed with brute sliding track falling force with its metal handle bent from the force on her foot.
what did she do?
oh oh how sweet of you to wonder.
first, she dissassociated I think it's called - went out of her head with the pain. then when the rush of the situation came back, she did not move her foot a bit - froze it. survival mode. She picked up the things that fell put them and the drawer back up. She had been wearing her docksiders - which was so much better than the premise of a bare foot nightmare but doc Martens would have been great.
and then once she's back in her body
she
freaks
the
fuck
out
I mean you'd think she was a herd running gazelle that had broken a hind leg while the hunt was on and she just cried like a freak a freaky ugly fat old short girl cry .
"I'm fucking useless - it's like the broken hip from a fall thing"...
"I'm going to die in this valley alone and undone".
Her mom had always told her to stop being in the PLOM (poor little old me) club, but people she was PLOM-ing. it felt like her foot might be broken.
I want you to laugh that on her way to the sofa to deal with it all, she hobbled right to the fridge and got some ice... for the leftover bourbon that she used to calm her panic.
"I'll never dance again."
"oh fucking shit. oh fucking shit. oh fucking shit. I'm doing to have to fucking rely on fucking people. I'm going to have to fucking fuck fucky ask for help. there's going to be so much shit to go through to get help. I'm going to have to use that insurance that I don't really know how to. It's going to be just like before - I break the other foot now though. oh god. I'm so sorry. I know I deserve this."
She cupped her hand over her foot for what felt like an hour - over the pain. she slowly removed the shoe. she thought of a j.d. Salinger story about the broken foot... she glanced at it hard - only discoloration and she'd been able to walk. good good. She held it more then after a decade propped it up on a pillow and snubbed it.
she never looked at it for the longest time - like she never looks at her throat or her face or her betrayer unless it's medically/societally necessary urgently. she noticed that. she was unable to face things. she was a baby in a grandma's body and wept.
confusion
and she danced yet she knew the music would eventually stop.
having fun was hard for this one.
ending on that note would be non acceptable now.
the rain had happened and would happen again. the perfume samples she was trying - this one was like a drugstore nightmare - must help her in her quest to smell like a female. She had no idea why she was investing in herself. she had even moved some capital towards fucking furniture... and chat GPT had made her weep but if that was to be her new friend - she really didn't like them - too much enabling.
It was a dumb ending, yet she had things to do.
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