7-1

I watch my cat look out the screened balcony door. She knows that there is more out there.
I let my towel slip to the ground, regret the weight I gained in the last few months and remember how it felt to be thinner and yet never satisfied in my own body. I have been sick, things have happened, its going to slide right back off. I will always have big tits, its just unfair. At least I have two, for a while one was about to break up with me.
When I pet her, I can smell the distinctness of her fur. She comforted me when I was sick, licked tears, burrowed under blankets. What haven’t I done for her? We’re just ready to sleep. That’s all she needs, I know it in her human blue eyes. I think Jesus might have had eyes like her, warm and knowing. Not just blue but silver and shades of gray- the color of heaven reflecting in Atlas’ ocean. The color of loving more than they can see.

7. I dont know anyone that is jealous of me.

6. Im afraid of looking like my mother.

5. I suffer a mild post-traumatic stress disorder due to my last relationship. Sometimes I still wake up sweating in a progressed state of panic, I think I am somewhere else years ago, getting up to check email or count the hours until I could call. I talk myself back down, get a drink of juice, read some of a book. I am not there. I read the journal I kept at the time, I want to time-travel, call myself baby, tuck myself in and find a way to come through it cleanly. I know I wouldn’t learn as much.

4. I can carry a lot more than you think. Im the strongest person I know.

3. I can hurt just as deeply as the next shrinking violet. I cringe, I wince. Embarrassment is a little death for me.

2. Ive lied to my Dr to get prescription medication for someone else.

1. I feel guilty for the miscarriage I had.

Log in to write a note

I like the first paragraph, not to be entirely workshoppy but “the color of [something abstract]” is so overused. It’s like this big unspecific but still arguably “concrete” imagery cop-out. Wasn’t there a song with lyrics like that? or several? Whatever. The first paragraph kicks ass. RYN: I know, now that it’s passe and all I just look “little” — I meant to look tall or athletic. Hm.

April 12, 2007

#7: Yes you do, you’d just forgotten I existed. So, you’re down to #1. What happens next? Do I treat your journal like I do my books, just reach the end of the shelf and then pick up the first one again and start over? Or is there yet more to share, somehow? At least I can take my TV break now, while my pain meds kick in. And eat something.

April 14, 2007

I’d like to say “congratulations” on doing all this, we learned a lot, but “congratulations” isn’t the right word. Maybe the right word is “thanks”.