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she felt like she must be like that Phoebe bridgers character trick on fleabag - writing this as a fourth wall. who knew. it was supposed to be a cathartic end (spoiler alert although I''ve not seen the series either - just did a read about it) after she professes her sincere love to the unavailable and receives - well what she receives is probably beautifully open to interpretation, yet the aging female writing this hears it as this, "I won''t be returning that love in a way that will matter to you much, and I wish such good things for you"
and then fleabag waves goodbye to the camera indicating she has moved on and does not need an audience.
--
well, this cousin still doth an audience desire - a witness - a witness, can I get a witness. It''s adorable how she can''t keep her persons straight - first or third and she forgot what second was. the clouds were rather magnificent. the white Mercedes owner - another single lady - who had two dogs just pulled in her own driveway. slights she was was seeing. sites. and the pink geraniums were just blooming away and the black eyed Susans were the proper yellow and brown and the grass was adequately cut, and was genuinely not the worst yard by far. Her car was still a piece of shit, but her beloved brother who would live years after a period of painful medicine - had given it to her.
her sister was having a party. it would be the exact gathering that had been their when Leon had been with us six and a half months ago. instead of Christmas, it was the patriarch''s 80th.
it was hard to think about the amount of weird loss she put into the Leon situation - as if it was the last shot and it would have been a 3-pointer at the game-winning buzzer in the finals. she idealized it.
god did she.
but she wasn''t wrong. others did the same. the dude had a load of fans. she pictured him this morning, as she was starting her own day - how he''d be snoozing up with the coffee after a restless sleep... farmers market... late-morning walk/gym... hit the kids up for a lunch... line up a date because he was sick of the hi-lo... cross puzzle it all out...
she had seen a video today of a baby being regulated by its mother''s touch. she was always trying for ways to be ok that it didn''t work - that she couldn''t feel safe. she remember weeping - not just with him - but with Andrew after her family. it always used to hurt being around her family. it was like love under bulletproof glass. and being so close to just calling it an illusion but not being able to get out of your own head and stop fucking being so loopingly-self conscious and stop trying to drown it with alcohol - for the twenty-ninth curtain call, it will not suffice.
yet, it was all she knew.
the sad kind professor called her up today for a quickie. she Owed him one by many ways that could be looked at it - if you called it a ''relationship'' in any way. she had just forgotten to tell him that part - thinking like Leon had to her - that surely it would be figured out - who doesn''t want to fuck someone they''re in new love with - or even wanting to be with them. for the crone, it was always a negotiation. she remembered when she had sex with him last time - last June - just before she was going to ... Athens, and how she had said before obligatorily fucking him, "I just want you to know that fucking you goes against all my values." what she meant - because apparently, it was something that needed explaining, she liked to fuck people she loved the best best best best and the other kind was in a hole of despair wanting regulation for feeling like a lost abandoned mammal who had been programmed, "your only worth is being entertaining/brilliant."
and so it goes.
she thought today about maybe reading the mystery story she had written . she had never re-read it. as one might imagine from reading these very words she continues to write upon a joyous robot, the woman doth not edit.
she needed editing badly.
she made deconstructed pesto today, and thought of how you didn''t like pesto because the pre-dinner with your grandmother and brother before the ballet or opera or a play, you later became violently ill.
you were her favorite story.
her only existing hope was that she had loved before and now wouldn''t even care if she never saw them again.... well, she means Egbert and Selim. she''d like to see Brian again - but the time she had seen him years afterwards, he had been so fucking low.
who knew.
but it was the only hope she had, was that she had woken up from the spell before.
her heart died when she heard of epic forest fires.
she was such an Ent princess.
maybe it would have worked if she had had her own life and patience and could slowly inch towards safety, but she hadn''t. she had wanted to fucking merge with him. I called it love.
what else?
it was all so empty.
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