If I am a mermaid, my heart is a treasure chest. In my heart someday perhaps somebody will excavate and they will find the secret to my story.

They will find you.

I said, I needed somebody to love, I was so scared of all those men. I thought I was helping. So you wouldn’t know how badly you hurt me.

I wrote you love letters you didn’t want and I spent money I didn’t have on a statue you threw away. I fell off the edge of a planet when you let me go. I stopped being either middle class or hopeful.

I became a girl who speaks to no one. Who writes notes in class to the people who will never speak to her out loud. The ones whose relational helplessness is naïveté and fragility combined. Who like me because I’m angry but are certain, certain I tell you, that they cannot have earned my ire themselves. They are good people. They’ve earned their successes. They work hard. If they exist leagues above me it is because they work harder think smarter try more (are more lovable) than me.

That slight twist of resentment, the clang of the bell that once tolled their birth in the background as they speak. These people who are used to being listened to, cherished, believed.

People like me are no fun, and. People like me don’t smile enough. We must not have read the right self-help books. We must need more therapy or a paleo diet or a juice cleanse. We must not be very good at this whole life thing but perhaps if we tried harder. Perhaps then…?

I loved him like a poor person, all sex and attempts at communication and trying. None of this classy elegant no big deal crap. When you live your life on the teetering edge of a society that does not want your continued presence in it, who has time for classy?

In fact. If I had followed my socially scripted destiny. I suppose he would have been mine. But it would have fallen apart. I would have left, to find myself.

In women’s lives, marriage is an ending. The end of her career. The end of her story. The end of her independence and any adventuring she might have left to do.

Sex is a humiliation marriage is drudgery children are a burden but we do it.

We do it because we know intuitively it does not have to be this way. It was never supposed to be this way. Only, gender roles pervert the love until it is disappeared without a trace. And in its place, colonization.

I am not fertile ground for him to crack open drop seeds try to grow what he will grow. I am not empty space on which to play the video of his fantasies and I am not the fictional character Ruby Sparks, a character on a page come to life and wholly under her author’s control.

For some people dating is about getting someone to do what you want them to do. Trying to decipher what they might want you to do.

I am a wolf and I named myself. I know there is a difference between unleashing savagery and unleashing wilderness.

In the wilds of me, is G-D and hope and sex.

Left to grow according to my own patterns and delights, perhaps I might be all anyone I love could ever need from me.

Perhaps.

Writes all the things. Photographs the light. Smiles at odd moments. Reads in the shower. Sings to the trees. Hopes a lot.

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