You know when you can sit alone in a room and know that it is exactly where you're supposed to be? Yeah, that feeling, it is beautiful. I treasure these nights, because I know how easily they can flip. I've had so much directed at and around me since leaving Sacramento. It was supposed to be a time of healing, and sadly, now my best friend is along for this astronomically fucked-up ride. It sucks. How can I be capable of helping her when I can barely help myself right now? I want to maniacally scream "Let us grab my bat and go Brooke Hulk on these pieces of shit!" No. That can't be it. So I will sit here, and I will write; knowing my best friend is close by. Knowing that we are both so much more than "crazy", "moody", and unworthy of love and respect. We have been wronged for the last time.
The other night Cassandra told me that I have my shit together and my impulse was to laugh, then I realized that the reaction had been programmed into me. It became a joke, because so many people thought I couldn't do it, or even worse: they didn't want me to. It's not a joke; never has been. I'm gathering all of my shit and getting it together.
No comments:
Post a Comment