Taking Out the Trash

I have revealed a lot of things on this blog that are deeply personal, and not always in a way that is very obvious unless you happen to know the real life situations I make reference to in my own roundabout way. These days I feel as though I’m angry all the time, but have been hesitant to express my anger unless it has to do with larger issues of which I am but a small piece: racial inequality, gender-based violence, among many other things. What will my writing become if I’m only ever doing it with some bigger picture in mind? This blog, although public, is still my own space to do what I want. Today “what I want” includes getting out some of this anger before it eats me up from the inside, more than it has done already. You may see it as attention-seeking or unnecessary, but what will my writing become if I can’t sometimes use it as therapy and catharsis for myself?

“You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.” -Anne Lamott

***

Consider this a found poem, a collection of random trash I stepped on when I stumbled out of bed at 5:08 this morning.

a seemingly harmless follow up message to make sure you noticed me the way I noticed you: Great meeting you yesterday.

arrogance masquerading as playful banter: Here are all the reasons you should be impressed by me.

false self-deprecation and all the reasons I’m impressed by you: I have my money on you getting us a NYT bestseller.

a few “tone-deaf” statements I may or may not believe fully just to provoke you: Feminism still thrives on emotion and faux outrage.

casual suggestion of another in-person meeting: I’m happy to take payment in a form of coffee or some cocktail.

appearing to enjoy your sarcasm and jabs at my ego: After the multiple slights, I must have a weird need to be maltreated. Now do your worst, go for it. I quickly learned to stow my heart away when dealing with you

connection based on a shared language and culture: The curse of millennial Ewes.

 this is the part where cheesy pick up lines give way to requests for you to share more of yourself with me: Give me a glimpse into “Vulnerable you.”

this is the part where you should have heeded the warning, anyone who disparages your sisters to flatter you is not worth your time: The yous of this town are like an eclipse. A rarity. Refreshing.

 this is the part where you really should have turned back, the part that spoke the future almost word for word: I’m very calculating. But not that kind of calculating. Spontaneity is a big part of my MO.

absurd tantrum, complete with tears, when I find out your life plans are not quaint enough to fit into my own: You watched me change plans and get rid of lingering situations! If I had known you weren’t coming back things would have been different.

 arrogance exposing itself with no reservations: I think too highly of myself to be treated this way.

the warning signs are much closer together now that the novelty has worn off, now that you have waited up with no idea where I am, when facts and fiction swirl together in a cloud of smoke: I was working on an urgent project all night. I know I should’ve called. You’re taking this really well. You’re NOT dealing with workaholic me so well. Times and seasons babe. There are times when I’m consumed by work and the time zone difference isn’t helpful.

red flags are slapping you in the face and you still can’t see that you are being made to feel like demanding I take responsibility for my actions is actually emotional instability: I’m sorry you feel that way. Jumping to conclusions with very little context isn’t going to help. None of this played out the way I had imagined it.

unfortunately I thought I could get away with making you the understudy for someone else’s permanence. 

 It’s 6:13 now and I’m still trying to scrape the remnants of this debris from the soles of my feet. 

One thought on “Taking Out the Trash

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