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she knew it wasn't about the fucking cats, but fuck did she not care as she went off on them for a full five minutes upon returning home from getting the fuck away from the crush feeling of everyone needing her everything needing her to do it - in and animate objects - all of it.
SHE WAS SO FUCKING TIRED OF BEING RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE ELSE's FEELINGS she could fucking scream.
maybe that's what that was a scream.
not that it mattered, but who helped her?
who said "hey, how are you doing? no really how?"
everyone was content with a ...
who even was everyone.
she had culled her life to have
one
single
human
being
that was local in the town she lived in.
and this human being wanted something from her
all
the
time
"shut the fuck up! Dobby SHUT THE FUCK UP. please give me one fucking minute without you fucking wanting something from me - without you whining. Could you please just all go away. Could you please just fucking leave my life. could you not die - just go somewhere else. Your fucking owner left you without providing for you and the ONLY reason I feed you is because I know you don't understand and I've been the fucking neighbor - when I was a kid. I've left cats. but fuck is this really what god is giving me? I don't want you. I DO NOT WANT YOU. I do not want this responsibility. I don't want to have to do this. and I HAVE NO FUCKING CHOICE. I can't bear to imagine you confused in a cage for months unloved - the thought of your face is unbearable..."
The two litter boxes that were part of an entire empty bedroom made her so pissed off. she never wanted a litter box again - unless SHE CHOSE IT. everything was so fucking messy. it was sticky in the house because she was too cheap to run the AC and fucking Dobby's only fucking joy was looking out the screen and having her wave that fucking feather wand.
she didn't want to die.
she just wanted to escape.
she didn't want to have to take care of anyone's needs. she was spent the fuck out. she was devastated. she had lost him. she had lost herself. She didn't want to have to hurt anyone. She didn't want to have to feel hurt. She wanted her house clean. She wanted her bushes cut. She wanted to go to the dentist. She wanted to make sure the gutters were working properly. she wanted the fucking grass cut. SHE WANTED A FUCKING CAT SITTER who she could trust. She wanted out.
she wanted so badly to hop in the car, and drive the fastest way she could to North Carolina and get some fucking fake pot and see if that worked to numb her out like it had in the past ...until it stopped working ... fuck fuck fuck
instead, she took a half on the stupid - but all she had - anti-anxiety pills that were like strong Benadryl. everything sucked.
she was so grateful for the luxury to think about it
all
the
time
and she was stuck in a loop.
she had to get the fuck out of it.
in order to do so, she had to do the hardest thing for her.
she had to disappoint someone she really cared about.
it always triggered the father.
fucking fucking life
so fucking stupid.
she was so fucking pissed.
and of course she cried right after she wrote this and the fucking suspended plexiglass daisy and the fucking baseball in the yellow cup
and going to macon fucking bagels
for the first time in ages.
he was all over it
all over it. the ghost of where they had
sat
the lame jokes
and she almost wept in public.
instead,
she sucked it up
it was getting harder.
she was breaking
and it was like with the father,
if I say no to you, I lose you
but if I say yes to you,
I
die
inside
more
fuck
fuck
fuck
She was the kind of shit cleaner who went through all the motions others did, swept, wiped, but it never really cleaned anything. she was a shit housekeeper, and it was so thick and hot. fuck.
the new neighbors sucked at keeping their yard clean and were petty mowers - leaving her to do the six inches to the left of her driveway. fuck them. fuck that.
the old neighbors? well, he had mowed those six inches sure. she missed the shit out of him. if he were here, she would be free. she sent him a foto of the three cats he and Julie had fed for over seven years twice a day but didn't include "hey, assholes, here's your fucking cats. I curse your fucking name pretty much every other day for leaving this situation to me without even acknowledging it. a thank you would have been REALLY appreciated maybe. fuck you hard. fuck you. fuck you."
She washed some clothes and swept the floor. washing the clothes for some fucking fuck reason always reminded her of the time he washed clothes - so domestic. fuck him. fuck him. cowards. all of us.
why couldn't she frolic in the woods with honey mead, excellent music, trusted friends, a fucking lover that she loved and loved her and happy lust and good vibes.
instead, she didn't even go see drivin n cryin when they were four blocks away. She used a tornado as the excuse but really
it was all
the millions
of taunt e-strings....
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