Rambling not Gambling

Yesterday I ate five avocado’s. And it’s mainly because Jason Mraz owns an avocado farm and also they taste like creamy nuts. (Wahey) Today I have eaten nothing much, only one avocado and a load of lemonade, so far. But then again it is only 11:16 am and the middle of the day is for some the beginning, so It can be my beginning. When you study from home there are no school days or work days and days of the week have absolutely no meaning. What is a Tuesday? Honestly, what is Tuesday. Nothing happens on Tuesdays. It is not the middle or the start or the weekend, once a year we make pancakes on a Tuesday. From the Old English “Day of Tiw” – God of war and the sky. God of the day in which absolutely nothing ever happens except maybe its bin day for some people. Sometimes I want my hair really really short and to wear floral dresses and be tiny and delicate. I wish my breasts were smaller, lesser, not heavy on my mind. And I like to fill my eyebrows thick and evident, I like my cheekbones. I like the corners of my pupils. Sometimes the very idea of somebody I care about being upset burns at my chest and I want to help, I want to help so badly and not even for you to know it was me, I want you to smile and be proud of yourself, I want you to love you the way I do.
Other times the postman comes and I lose all train of thought, all velocity with which I travel. Maybe I unravel a little trying to explain all the thoughts swimming behind my eyes. Maybe I unravel myself sometimes because I cannot win the inner wars which I know I need to overcome. I’ve conquered some.
And there are tiny shoes on my floor for tiny feet that at times I wish would go away, only to return later. When I’m ready for them. I’m not ready and that does not mean that I am not able nor willing to care for her. It just means I did not prepare, the ground work was not laid. People say horrible and offensive things about single mothers as though it were a joke. As though every woman magically decided to get pregnant, all by herself, with ZERO input from a man, and of course since she must carry the creature inside her womb for nine months, incredible levels of pain and fatigue and emotional trauma included; WHAT THIS ALL MEANS is that of course the male of the species may flounce off to spread his seed elsewhere. “My baby” When it suits them. Unable to stop punching themselves in the face but apparently able to raise a small child in an emotionally stable environment. It is then hilarious to joke about the mother needing help from the government or council because maybe they are still bleeding and falling apart inside six months after giving birth. And a tiny creature that cannot fend for itself needs them and it is literally impossible to work. Maybe because some single mothers are scroungers, they all are right? Not that other people don’t take advantage of our benefit system. Not that you took money whilst at school for “School supplies” for those who’s parents struggled > Only to buy vodka and party every single weekend? Have you a student loan or bursary you’re depending on and probably will never pay back in its entirety? Because you want a better life? Yeah maybe. I don’t know, maybe that’s oddly specific. Maybe Its just specific enough because I’m really angry about being abandoned by somebody I know has the capacity to understand their actions, and behave better than that.
Who knows. When you write in self indulgence there’s not much you give to the reader. It is not for reading, it is for writing. I am for writing.

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