I woke up to the sound of my blackberry alarm in pitch darkness.
What... Why was it so dark?
Welcome to winter.
I dragged out my coat from the cupboard and pulled it on as I shut the front door behind me. Memories came flooding back. As a teenager, I pulled on my frumpy school fleece or jacket as I went to the bus stop. A huge cloak of ugliness and foul shapelessness - years ago I felt the disgusting poison of my blood seeping out the pores of my face, ugliness, fatness. Why couldn't I be fresh and pure and lovely, why did I have to be an unclean lump?
I pulled on my jacket on the morning of the new season to feel these same emotions flooding back - covering up the pretty pencil skirt and fitted blouse with a woollen jacket and woollen discomfort. I felt the cold daylight burning my skin as it had been for years, harshly highlighting the foulness of my skin, my attempts to patch over my natural ugliness - but nature is harsh, is cruel is TRUE - the natural daylight shows you who I really am.
I felt a sense of blunt despair, an autumn grimness. I had been feeling this for years - since I was a little girl - years of self disgust - would take a lifetime to change - it would never change.
I feel power when I feel beautiful.
I've lost it with Chris now. I avoid him because I don't want him to realise what a mistake he made in finding me attractive. I know he got it wrong. I know he's going to see that. So I ignore him and hide from him. So he gets the wrong impression. Again. I told him, so he knows, I'm a horrible person.
I sit here in bed craving him, craving his comfort, the tightness of his arms around me.
I crave a father. I want love - the unconditional kind - the fatherly kind - the kind where I can cry and the only thing that matters is that I stop.
Oh hell, oh hell, I am a grown woman and I write like a child,
think like a child, dream like a child, cry like a child.
Shed tears for a daddy I lost a lifetime ago. Little child. Little child who shed a tear drop on the card she wrote to partner the flowers on his coffin.
I run to the arms of a man - with an ever-changing face, knowing that I'm not running to him, but to who I want him to be, who he never will be, a face across the room that I cannot see but always feel.
And now, I have no understanding of l-o-v-e. I only know the way men feel for me is something else, something I do everything in my power to control,
but I have no power
I want to shrink and have his arms about me.
I am too big now.
Hillary Clinton meme
9 months ago