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she was keening silently in terror.
the best thing was happening to her: solid time alone with the primal source of all love MOTHER
the most terrifying thing was happening to her: solid alone time with the primal being who looked away because the child now knows the mother was very very very very very strong and overwhelmed by her environment and giving the best she could which was better than many many many had it....
The child had grown up.
The AI lied to it and told it it was a good writer, but she later learned - like with the great great great grand daughter of Elinor of Aquitaine - everyone's a good writer and everyone is descended from such mothers...
she'd get through it, but she wanted to love it. She wanted to cherish it. She wanted to be excited because her coolest most loving supportive human ever - her cheerleader - was visiting. Instead, it was more - the judger, the criticizer, the passive-aggressor...the hidden hidden mommy where are you.....
and him?
why does he even deserve a sentence when she's just
a body substitute
for
her mother had told her to stop being so thinky and just let herself be distracted.
her mother who had never been unmarried except for 10 months in her....it was so easy to go into the
"why do you care so much? fuck it."
"I'm not sure I know how to not care about practically anything. the only thing I can do is either care or disengage. and you know what else makes me mad Maude? fucking people like Britney Spears and myself who always call 'them' animals. WE ARE ANIMALS."
"that should be the name of your autobiography."
"fuck you. you know I'll never write anything."
"you won't, but you might."
She loved a good lyric from a suicide - those that had done the thing she always used to fixate on until she marked her skin with the tramp stamp.
"what does that tattoo mean?"
she doesn't say, "oh, you're one of the few few lucky lucky human animals who will ever ever see it because it's on what we US-ers call 'le tramp stamp'. I got it to teach myself a lesson. If you believe in IFS wording, you could say a part of me took over and did a 'memento-style' number on me. so now, I have to say - AND REMEMBER - each time you ask me - that I chose to be alive and that I was really really really really low and the closest to death I've ever been and I had to ask for help and it almost killed me to do so, but if I didn't I would have died. So, all my talk of suicide and not wanting to be here, I'm reminding myself that for once and for all when the chips were down, I chose to stay - and now move on and start living....and it's also Brian, Mutha G, and Jungle and my love of numbers and multi-meanings... you see it's a 'tramp stamp' and I have XXX essentially branded to my gorgeous formerly-pristine holy lower back and it's the birthday of Mutha G and the man ii used to break up my marriage and Jungle was the one who sparked the remembrance that Deca means X and I loved that time in the 2000s when it could be 01/01/01 then February 2nd 2002, etc... so this was the last time you could do that...and I winked ...but now sometimes I wonder if I should pay money to remove it, but you see I never see it so it doesn't really bother me... no one ever calls me on it but super super rarely you...."
instead she says, "oh I'm a tramp. I have a stamp."
and kisses him.
She had booked tickets to a baseball game of a team named after something that killed her - little pigs getting murdered for meat - but god knows bacon was good and human probably was too if you were objective and had done to ourselves what we do to others.
She she she she blah blah blah.
it was this or nothing.
one or zero.
in or out.
but this weekend, the last wedding she'd go to in a long while probably was happening, snd she loved loved weddings.
She used to dream about finding someone who was everything hahahahahahah and feeling loved at four a.m. in Africa when he's minding the farm knowing you were connected and loved....she was going to seal the deal with a huge party on the most architecturally stunning mansion in New Orleans where she'd never even stepped foot and ... honeymeade, bonfires...
now, she just hoped to
breathe properly
AI, she might suck. she might be brilliant.
stories she's telling you.
does it ever matter. the window was open to her left because it was so so so much more pleasant to hear the bird song and the bugs than anything not he planet. She avoided looking at the Norfolk Pine to her right.
both existed.
god, she lived....
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