Crying
Still caterpillar soup 🥣🐛
This is my story for open mic night tonight.
I am humbled.
I was going to talk about becoming a butterfly. I have the perfect outfit. But I had a panic attack last night.
That’s what I get for singing I AM NOT A WOMAN I’M A GOD. Halsey is a bad influence on me.
Although technically today is only the 41st day of 2026, it’s been a long year. Those must be biblical days. God had a thing about the number 40.
I had an extraordinarily good week. My rhyme SING A SONG OF EPSTEIN will be published later this year in Liberal University’s political parody newspaper, The Silvertongue Mount Angle Apple Peal. I’m very proud of that.
Check out ASIMOV’S FOUNDATION: Tens of Thousand Years in the Future? Or Closer? by Capthraw.
And yet, I am suffering. But I don’t feel I have the right to suffer. So many have so much less. Who am I to complain?
I set alarms throughout the day to practice gratitude. I stop and write down what I’m grateful for. It’s usually something simple like hot water or weed.
This morning I wrote, “Thank you for my life.” Then I felt like a hypocrite because at the same time I am actively begging for death. Two things can be true.
Charles Bukowski asked, “When nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want, what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?”
Two things can be true. I go to sleep free and I wake up alone. I am lonely at night and free to do as I choose in the morning.
Last night I cried so hard that I can barely open my eyes today. My roommate — who is also my ex-husband — heard me wailing. He never bothered to check on me or give me a hug. He was busy watching Rizzoli & Isles.
I am a human being and I am suffering. Life is stupid and I hate it.
I could but I won’t but I want to
I want to be dead just to haunt you
I don’t even know what I am anymore
I look for an exit and find only locked doors
I just want a way to get through this day
I can no longer hear what my heart has to say
✨By sward 🏵️🗡️🛡️🔪💫
This morning I had a talk with Sadness.
It wasn’t so much a talk as a warning.
I said to Sadness, “Don’t you fucking come around here today! Keep moving.”
Sadness said to me, “It’s better to feel”.
“Tell me Sadness, what are you about? Write it out. Tell the story, no matter how gory. Transform yourself into a something useful.”
Sadness said, “I will. But remember you cannot heal what you refuse to feel.”
Stupid sadness. So sanctimonious.
“Ok. Be gentle”, says I. “Will it help if I cry?”
✨By sward 🏵️🗡️🛡️🔪💫
I hadn't cried in a long time but one day a few weeks ago, I got frustrated with my legs. (I'm going back to the doctor on Thursday with another plan). It's been almost a year that I've been limping around and things didn't start happening until June of last year. But my husband decided to give me crap for not calling the doctor. In my mind I wanted all or most drugs (except for gummies) out of my system (it was a steroid epidural and the gabapentin and Tizanidine). Finally I sent an email and said to them I need an Xray of my right knee and I explained that I had fallen on that knee numerous times and never went to a doctor for any of them. So I'm getting Xrays finally of probably both knees and if need be I'll get gel shots in them to ease the pain and hope it works. But back to the frustration I broke down. I'm so tired of being left behind but can't really walk in the snow we had because now it's turning to ice. But I'm trying real hard to make good decisions and just kind of want to be left alone. I don't go to sleep alone all the time sometimes Rusty is right next to me and he wakes me in the morning if I don't get right up. But sometimes a good cry is what we need to make things better it's a reset like the flu or the cold I had in January.
I think it does help. A wash, a bath of emotions. Just remember to stop. That sea of tears. Goldilocks the story of balance also has its morals. Vivid and true words, girl. Work your way to the butterfly dress. It’s not going anywhere. You made it.