Le maudit Mo D.

church of the inherent awesome

My head is swirling. I am tired. I should go to sleep but I'm scared. I am scared that I will be punished for speaking incorrectly, for not being Queen Supreme of Personal Organization, for trying to make other people happy, for supporting a ridiculously busted idea of fair, for wanting to be liked, for trying to make a system work. For being dependable and on-the-spot. I am always scared of being punished because I used to get in much trouble for speaking the truth. Like, seriously. It wasn't like I would get hit or grounded or anything but my mom would just go crazy ballistic and act like by not lying correctly, I was hurting her. Irreparably. She'd drive me over to the Old Folks Home with a tear-stained tomato face and push me out of the car and I'd spend the rest of the day with my father who just wanted to talk about politics. I was probably in the 7-9 age range.

My head is spinning and I usually hate people who bring up their pasts, use them as excuses for all sorts of shit. Yeah, my dad died and my grandparents were god-awful people and my mother is a little bit stockholm and a lot of ptsd, and I've made mistakes and I've never been popular except with teachers and school administrators. They LOVED me. I'm tall and awkward and have a big nose and a denty chest, but that doesn't forgive anything in the here and now. I believe that. But I also believe that Paragraph One is why I am feeling the way I am feeling right now and I am very hurt and confused that I am supposed to hold the world together with scotch tape and silly putty.
Nobody has the right to ask me to do that.