Friday, March 16, 2018

Flowers use shit to grow


We’re all beautiful flowers hungry for the sun. Let me re-phrase that: we’re all Home Depot pansies; ordinary, thirsty as fuck, and capable of suffocating the life out the flower next to us for our time in the sun.

I’ve long believed that humans have this insatiable need to be seen and adored. I’m no different. I don’t work out every day just because it makes me feel good. You’d be smoking crack if you believed that I wouldn’t rather be eating pizza by the box and washing it down with milkshakes and full calorie soda. Holy shit, that was erotic. No - I work out, maintain basic hygiene, and try not to be too much of a cunt because I seek approval.

Why are we such pieces of shit? Tell ya what, I’ll try not to figure you out; I’ll just talk about what an ass I am.

I was having a discussion with my cousin this morning. She’s a Dr. and wasn’t prescribing me anything and I didn’t owe her anything at the end of our discussion, so choke on that. Anyhow, we talked a bit (I talked) about how people tend to take tragedies and make them catastrophes, then paint themselves right smack in the center of them (and how this fucking irritates me) when really, they ought to sit down and respect the process that usually HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THEM. Once I had myself affixed to my soapbox securely, I was able to talk shit with more confidence. How dare these people! What kind of asshole thinks only of themselves in situations and has no regard for others? Me. I do.

I was a lonely kid growing up. I knew I was cool as fuck though too. I’m certain I remember myself much differently than I was. If you ask me to describe myself (I’m going to anyway) I would say that I was a bit of a loner with a book habit. I indulged in music and shitty poetry and dreamed of being a musician; all dark and brooding. I was a 14-yr. old girl for fucks sake. I might say that I was unique. Ugh! I was not unique. Not even a little. At least not in the ways or for the reasons that I thought made one unique. I dyed my hair and played guitar, so fucking what?! I was no more special for that than my neighbor, she was a living Barbie doll. I brought home strange homeless people and tried to fix the wing of a bird that my cat tried to kill. When I couldn’t fix the bird and my mom found out about Tom (homeless guy I hid in the attic) I was heartbroken and cried for days – THAT is the shit that made me special.

But despite being special, I was still a piece of shit…

I fluffed my cousin with compliments (all legit by the way); told her how she had always been an inspiration for me. She made me want to do better for myself. Ok, I’m lying again. She pissed me off because she was always better than me – at everything. This bitch came from another country, barely able to understand our language, and I hooked her up. I took her to school with me and helped acclimate her. Before I knew it, she surpassed me – at everything. I was hella pissed. I learned to compete with her…at everything. I even challenged her to a goddamn sit-up contest. Who da fuck does that shit?! BTW, cousin, I’m still pissed. I hurt for a long time after that. Pride and abdomen alike.

She reminded me just how fucked up my mean streak can be. Here is a little excerpt. God bless her for being so forgiving. This was a HUGE slap in the face for me. I have always thought of myself as relatively kind, but this is hard for me. This was some spiteful ass shit. Check it out…

Her: Lol about the sit-ups. Do you remember how when you’d get mad at me, you’d yell “when you grow up, you’re going to look like your mother and I’m going to look like mine!” You where prophetically right about that.
I guess in some ways, we all turn into our mothers. 

Me: I said that out of anger? That is so fucking not cool. There was nothing wrong with Eva. Kids are evil. I'm sorry. I don't remember that.

Her: We were just kids. I find it pretty funny.

Me: No, that's shitty.
I apologize. I was a mean kid. I'm seeing that now.
That's actually horrifying. Your mother was beautiful. I remember the picture of her and your father in my grandmothers living room. I was just being a spiteful brat

Her: I appreciate you saying that, but an apology is not needed. We had a kind of sibling rivalry that was ripe for this kind of stuff. As an adult, I have realized I was a pretty mean adolescent to my younger brothers

Me: My mom was a drunk and a pill addict. So yeah...my declaration of "I get to be like her" was fitting. Now, that is funny. OMG.... I will so be writing about that!! LMAO

I wanted to come out of every situation the winner. To some degree, I still do. It’s a very unattractive quality. I’m pretty sure that I’ve done some growing since 2nd grade although sometimes I question how much. For instance: competing with the woman (or man) at the gym on the machine next to me is just plain dumb. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to do it later tonight, just means it dumb. Because, remember…I want to look good in those jeans so that I can steal the sunshine from the Barbie doll next to while eating pizza by the box. I’m no better than you; in fact, I’m terrible. I’m still working on my shit though. What are you doing?


Should be noted that mom has now been clean and sober for longer than I have. Love you mom! 

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