I want to say it’s you, don’t I. I want to actually sit down at my keyboard, first time I’ve done writing other than a blast of zero draft blasphemy, and say instead, in a blast of stream of consciousness end of the year bullshit, that it’s you!
It is, isn’t it?
It’s you, because you taught me about life and mania and toxic positivity. Because you taught me how I’d prefer to die, and how to speak in ways you did and didn’t.
And it’s you, for teaching me to drink and mourn at the same time. Multitasking is a skill.
And it’s also you, for teaching me how to stop doing one of those things, at least.
It’s you, for teaching me to let my poison out sweet, that I was a good fish otherwise, a hearty meal. And also you, for teaching me horror is still out there, waiting, that I will still always have suffering ahead, and that also I will have joy, and love, and so much hope it crushes me.
It’s you too, baby, for teaching me that hope, and adding another edge of fear to the knife drawer.
Finally, it’s me, too. Fuck. How’d I get to this place?
Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Happy new year. ❤
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