I had an argument with my mom once, about how dangerous her naivety is.
She got heated and said something along the lines of
“I like people! I like believing that they’re good”
Ma,,mother..
“they’re not, And that’s why you are a perpetual victim”
Victim to yourself.
No understanding of mechanics, zero…
No understanding of psychology.
The window standing of anything that really matters
(biology)
Yes, I take it back, there is an understanding of how the human body works.
But she does nothing with that information.
She fell into a career of nursing, because of her deep internal need..
To caretake.
To either be giving aid, or in severe need of it..
And it’s fucked up.
(just like you)
If I was done, if I was at the end…
I still think her choices are the choice of a punk bitch ass motherfucker.
Zero independence.
A Long marriage ,where the second half of it… She didn’t even realize..
Didn’t even realize it.
He only stayed so long for the money.
Retirement, investments, that kind of stuff.
Pat is such an incredible control freak, and she is such a “take care of me” typa bitch..
Naive…
Fuckin Naive.
(but tender)
And disgusting, completely and utterly disgusting.
And she doesn’t even fucking see it .
And it’s so hard to watch .
There actually are good traits within people like this, kindness, compassion, empathy.
But what tore her down.
Was trust.
Comfort was the monster.
Full-time relaxing.
Every day is a drinking day .
And it’s so fucking hard to witness this slow decomposition..
In the people you love.
So if I ever have that sticky thought “Maybe I’m done”
….no no no no no….
You don’t really know what done looks like.
Don’t have the slightest idea what follows disconnection.
Desperately grasping on.
Watching it go by.
I’m nothing special by being here, I wouldn’t call it a act of kindness,,, but for real,,
She either can’t do anything or she won’t do anything .
Including eating.
Including leaving the house.
It’s so disgusting.
Because it’s not just the body that left, It’s the mind.
An elderly woman who has regressed into the state of a child, in her bed crying.
Just crying.
Because life is so goddamn brutal.
Ehhh . Sucks…
It fucking sucks.
And having the knowledge that torments her…it.. It only makes you a pessimist.
Makes you a bummer.
Some wicked cyclical thing.
The largest I’ve ever noticed in the physical or emotional or psychological.
And in denial about all of it.
All of it.
Comfort kills.
(and alcohol strips away your ability to fight it)
Or to even think about it.
In that regard, I’m glad I found fauxpium..
Even for all the negative things that it is.
I don’t want to be drunk like that.
I don’t want to be drunk alone.
I don’t want to shut myself in and die that way.
Regardless of the distance of the apple falling from the tree.
(ever wish you were simply unaware?)
No.
I would rather to know the things I know. Even if it makes me a bummer
dawn 