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this is going to be nothing about elm trees. I don't even know how to spot one. I just liked the alliteration, and I wanted to spew some more words hoping this external calibration might serve me well. serve me peace. serve me.
It was hard. I keep turning to this hoping I can say it correctly the ten thousandth attempt, but I doubt I'll get into the Paris Review - especially since I'm not even going to try.
I looked up how much olzempic or whatever people use costs. It was like a car payment, but maybe it would be a hoot to get up in the morning and not look at my protruding belly and thick thighs and despise the whole thing. Who knows. It isn't even hot yet.
I'm a fucking fool.
I still believe that ancient pattern that love can be a trick and that the person doesn't really even love you but wants something from you - your adoration and hole. and I'll set up a court ...oh god. can I finally be tired of talking about it. can I just distract myself like a normal person - can I fucking watch tv or something. maybe clean the house. clean my body.
but I'm still pissed.
I'm still pissed that I couldn't pull it off.
and I have no idea if there will be a next time in ten years
and if there's a next time, I have no idea that I'll be any better.
I just know that I doubted my entire existence on the planet
and it feels terrible.
and I don't know how to fix it.
and I can't stop writing
even though I know it's nothing.
it's nothing but talking to myself and hoping
one day it will all mean something or disappear.
right now. I take the pills that are supposed to help me out of the deep.
but I am deep.
I am weird.
I am someone with gigantic emotions.
sometimes I think "oh, if I were a success, I bet ..."
but I don't want to get anyone that way. I want to be a success because I didn't lie - that I made someone feel seen.
watching the World Cup makes me weep.
everything does.
"oh, I didn't think you thought that relationship was going anywhere."
"interesting. I'm not aware that I'm ever in any relationship that I believe is not going anywhere - I'm not really into casual."
"oh, I didn't know that."
"well, that kind of shocks me."
and then I think how on the planet can it be that no one knows that I cry every day sobbing about something that I have no idea except that it's mixed in with pa. and that irritates me. it's all so boring.
and last night, my heart fluttered again and I thought - what if this is it. what if I die.
you know what my first thought was? oh shit. the cats are trapped in here. they'd probably die. Maybe work would call my mom but I haven't updated my emergency contact. and then I wondered about all that would be left of me would just be unread words. I doubt they'd even know how to contact my friends. oh well.
and there aren't enough fire flies. I see one at a time and in different places. I guess I"m lucky to see them at all, and I fucking care.
that's on me.
I should really join a book club.
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