December 31st, 2013

Whether it is kept, or whether it is false, a promise must be made. It is so important to say something to the one who seeks comfort. So, say that you will stay forever, even if you plan to depart tomorrow. Say that you will love them for all eternity, even when another’s scent lingers on your skin. Love makes starving infants out of us. It is enough that we are naked; must we also be made to hold our aching bellies?

This is it, kids. Grab hold of the dog, and listen up. Know that I am still queen of the underworld. Ignore that I have climbed to the top of the mountain several times, only to be told it was a hill. What is important, is that I made the attempt under the impression I was conquering dangerous terrain. Ignore that I killed Hades, only to be told it was the doorman. I struck with determination and conviction.

The hellhound is not coming back. He has told me this in dreams, in that same language I know so well. He says it is time to be well-formed, and fill my height to the top. My cursive is bad, and my confidence is worse. I have fallen off the highest wall, so I know the pain of breaking every bone. It is not fair to say I fear pain, only that I seek to avoid it. Running and hiding are not crimes, but it is not wise to make a job out of this. I soak in what I think I must, flatten out my feet, and speak with authority. I take the sticky children‘s hands, tell the new dog he is a good boy, and I march forward.

December 31st, 2013

October 20th, 2013

To an outsider, a woman clasping hands with two girls, they will assume are my daughters, must look beautiful. We walk in the evenings, though the little king is missing. In his place, a mutt that resembles a bruised russet potato. After, I take them out for hot chocolate, and we play games at the coffee shop. We must look so lovely then, too. But, I can see the children’s pain. I am not enough. The night is dark, because their pain rises to the surface.

If a feeling is not underlined, it is ignored. Relationships are underdeveloped, then forgotten. I have no time to give what cannot immediately prove its importance. Here is a man if I want him, but I will not bring myself to give him the attention he needs. Here are friends that slowly forget how to pronounce my name. Everyone is beginning to think they have imagined me. There is nothing to give. There is no way inside me. Once more, I belong to the children.

It is not possible to evade what has become my responsibility. My faith is placed in another, any other. Formed by specters in the hills of Wallachia. Magically appearing in the main square of Linköping. A curse’s filthy residue. I do not care how you came to be, just rescue me. My bags are packed, my resolve is firm. We will build things together, and they will forever be yours and mine.

October 20th, 2013

July 31st, 2013

Morrissey once said that he chose to name his band The Smiths, because it is ordinary. He wanted to inspire ordinary people to show their faces. I have thought so much about the statements he made, all of them. That is all. I thought about them.

My hands are sticky with sugary ice cream, which melted off the cone. The children bicker. Their mouths grow as big as their demands. There is no more ice cream to quiet them. Instead, I hum over them, or I stare into a wall. I can see what exists beyond it. The hellhound hides from the chaos. At this, I laugh. I silently promise to take him to see the pond he loves. He will stare into it, as I do the wall. He will chase the ducks, the butterflies, the invisible energy.

I say, sweet bean pie, Cerberus, king of mine, come to me always. He holds his sad eyes to me, his girl. He has stabilized my step, and taught me to bleed once more. When we walk together, we are never in need of a light to guide us through.

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July 31st, 2013

March 27th, 2013

Though Juliet has returned to stay, we do not speak. No longer does she antagonize me. No longer does she shirk her obligations as often as she once did. Considering she is using drugs again, this arrangement, this truce, is temporary. Soon, she will find a man to become obsessed with, and her children will be last on her list of priorities. As it is, she cares for the girls, but not well. This is no business of mine, even if it feels quite the opposite.

I embrace the freedom I chose. Motherhood continues to be something I reject. But you would make such a good one, I hear. A smile is offered, but I allow for no further comments on the subject.

The hellhound helps me prepare for a thru-hike of the John Muir Trail. It pains me to know that I will have to leave him behind. This will be done in an effort to make my faithful beast proud. And while I understand that it reads as ridiculous as it sounds, it is no less true. I wish to prove to him that I soaked in his lessons, am drenched in some kind of better understanding of how my own mind works, and that I continue to make efforts to correct the glitches.

March 27th, 2013

September 3rd, Year of Vampires

Uncle Americo owned a little shop. It was not one of horrors, but of sweet treats. Mother thought I liked to visit him, since he allowed me to grab anything I wanted. He would say, “You eat some, and the rest you put in your pockets, for later.” In truth, it was because I knew I would never come closer to stepping foot in a castle, owned by a kindhearted king. That he loved me as much as I loved him, was clear. We were both similar, in the way we chose to conduct ourselves. Quiet, slightly rigid, hungry for good conversations, quick to smile, eager to look another in the eye to better reach their soul.

Standing next to him, I felt I finally belonged somewhere. I could say very little, silenced by the impression his beautifully decorated home made on me, which would still never come close to matching his own beauty.

Today, my gentle Americo passed away. The same day Daniel took his own life, years ago.

Sister will be returning soon. I have not spoken to her in weeks. It is the children who communicate this to me. They frequently ask if their mother and I will ever love each other, the way we are supposed to. I tell them not to ask about things they already know. Their eyes cut into my own. They turn to hold each other, walking away from me, as if I were an enemy.

Mother Mary, so pure and true, help me. Anyone at all, help me. Nothing provides me with comfort. My life is sick, and if there is a cure, let it reach me. The light seems a taunt, not a promise. No one can see what deeply affects me. I have carried the suffering with competence. It isn’t difficult to shove it through the chest, and fasten it securely, so that it doesn’t slip out.

September 3rd, Year of Vampires