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Even drinking water sometimes scared her. She had this habit of just downing it all in one medicinal swoop, but that caused a tiny bit of panic due to the not breathing part.
'twas a wet January fucking indeed. all of it.
Her head hurt.
She had been such a mess yesterday and likely continued to be a mess into this new day.
the only solace might be that she had discovered indubitably an old wound that needed to be addressed and put to bed (finally?):
the father
the mother
both were dangerous.
the father is an easy one to see, but a hard one to dismantle. He told her with his actions that she was fascinating, worthy of attention, intelligent, adorable, and disposable for a quick orgasm (so familiar literally).
it totally sucked, and she always thought she had gotten over it.
but then something would happen to trigger it - usually a discard - a rejection - a silent stone wall that cast her out or just quietly closed.
It was happening now.
and the mother? hers were more insidious - the only currency is looks - never ever ever get fat, always be aware of the male gaze and validate it and the constant refrain:
"men are only after one thing"
"oh I know! their mother's love and safety?"
her mother rolled her blue eyes. "no stupid - they want to get in your pants."
Narcissi was so alone.
so desperate, confused, ashamed, rejected, scorned that she was so happy to remember that!
"oh good! I am very willing to offer my sacred defiled orifice it it means that I can have him back"
"well, they won't respect you"
"oh mother, they can stand in line behind me."
"I think you need to go to the gym. you're getting a bit heavier."
"I know. I know. I'm sorry."
Narcissi knew that she hadn't figured out the trick - the trick of how to love herself and give herself validation, and it vexed her - being a constantly-bleeding crone and all.
again and again the forgiveness.
she dreamt they both killed each other after a diverted slow car chase up a San Francisco hill in a 70's car.
"dreams are so boring."
"I'm sorry. I'll shut up... again"
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