Dad, dad, dad. I am bitter because: you left, you are spaced out, you don’t want to visit me, you say insensitive things, you chose a life far away from me and you still don’t seem to care about being in a relationship with me.
Stepmom: I am really only bitter, at this point, that you think you’re better than everyone else, and you think your opinion about how I look and what I wear should be better than my own about myself. I am really grateful to you, too, and in touch with that.
How to move beyond the bitterness, Dad? I want you to want to be in my life.
Nov 17, 07:06AM PST | 0 comments
right now I witness and love: how soft my desk feels under my forearms. My beautiful workstation, books, postcards. The voices of coworkers for whom I feel affection. The clacking of my keyboard. My breath going in. My butt on the chair. The crick in my neck. how smooth and perfectly grooved the keys of the keyboard are. How coordinated my moves are to use the mouse, put thoughts to words. my soft neck skin, tingling hairs ruffled on end. My outbreath, the taste of coffee still in my houth, the feel of my tongue on the upper palate.
Nov 17, 06:56AM PST | 0 comments
I am solvent, I am solvent, I am solvent. Let it be. I am wealthy, prospered,a nd abundantly gifted. I am wealthy and free.
Nov 17, 06:53AM PST | 0 comments
I'm doing 43 things
