God... sometimes i hate your creation. do i even believe in You? sometimes i hate everyone. what good comes of humanity? at its most basic, is there anything to experience joyfully?
i guess i'm just pissed off.
who knows me? no one knows me. they think they do but they don't. maybe my brother. maybe my sister. everyone else thinks they have an accurate read on my number but the card they hold is upside-down. tell me, show me: where is your dead mama and all the prayers whispered in her name? where is your absent father and his absent strength? where is the lover who rejected you, totally? where is the love you've always needed, just out of reach, so close you could feel the eyelashes and still denied? so please. judge me to my face. call me "bitch" and act like i'm some spoiled little girl who doesn't know how to pay her bills on time.
does the context really matter? does the impetus? because when it comes right down to it the fact is that i feel alone, destroyed and singular in the worst way. there are nights when i feel so happy to go to bed alone... and there are nights when i feel so enormously alone and come face to face with the realization that, in spite of appearances, i've been going to bed alone for years. no one is going to be my rescuer. there is no knight in shining armor to wait for. it's all bullshit, i promise you. the fairy tales that have infected me are criminal and i hate you all for spilling them across my flesh. stop taunting me with your soft phrases. stop irritating the soft corners of my heart with your romantic hope. i am not encouraged, i feel devoid. the lack i feel is enormous and indescribable. i want nothing from you but your warm hand. if you would deny me this, deny me all and go on your merry way. find a girl less enthusiastic, less passionate, less likely to get her hair in a twist. i care too much to be silent. i care far too much to look at the flesh of another and not want to combat death to the inth. i will wage such wars as you've never seen and i will wage them, gently, across your skin with my lips and breath. i will make you feel alive and taut and tender. i will understand you in a way you've yet to be understood.
i can be loyal...
if only you would raise a hand to my face and be loyal to me.
i honestly can't believe what i've been subjected to. i can't believe what i've tolerated. i look in the mirror at my budding crow's feet and wonder , "what the hell have you done to yourself? what took you so long, girl, to stand up for yourself?"
it isn't often that i cry in my white room. when this shit hits, it hits hard.
i am impatient and silly and i have a big bleeding heart.
these texts are an archive of my life in the San Francisco Bay Area from march 2007 - march 2015. it stands as a record of close to a decade of my life, charting the struggles i faced as an artist, daughter, and lover. messy and chaotic at times, eloquent and poetic at others, these texts are an index i am proud of. it was here in this electric box that i learned how to be honest about my experiences and the person i needed to become. it was here that i first learned the truism that words make the world and how to trust such a beautiful, rife, hard fact.
thank you for meeting me here in such tall grass.
my artist website is here.
my artist website is here.