0459

I don't want to domesticate any animal. I simply dislike the yearly reminder of compound trauma. Being born on the hangover of America's Independence Day is to be born hyper-haunted.

I see your pain and wish I could banish it to the forest but I know that is not how trauma works and might we too be banishing the art? Heaven forbid. Jennifer often knows what to say when I'm off-centered. I hold the opposites in my hands and momentarily accept their equal weight. I feel myself level off: This will always hurt. This is temporary.

Soon enough me and the United States of America will be dust.

(meg remy)
(source)

Google “Am I dying?” You’re pretty sure you’re dying. But if you were dying, wouldn’t other people notice?

Take all the medications prescribed, even when they make everything much, much worse. Call the doctor, call the doctor, call the doctor. Leave a message, leave a message, leave a message.

Be good. Be so good. Deep inside you believe that if you are good, maybe this pain and humiliation will somehow lift, pull away from you and simply disappear as easily as it came.

When you’re finally called back after two weeks of chasing the doctor, be jovial and grateful and fast, he’s got a lot of people to call back. When you tell him the medications are no good, he gives you permission to quit but has nothing else for you. “Let’s hope you get pregnant soon, you might go into remission then.”

You know you wrote Infertility in your list of issues in that careful blue pen. You wrote it over and over and over again. But okay, let’s hope. It’s all you’ve got.

(natalie dougall)
(source)

What can one do about melancholic moods?
I wonder. I don't know. They kept me
company for so long that they even aged with me.
They took me to airports and railway stations.
I would have missed them, had they disappeared,
yes, I would have; our friends are not necessarily human.

(Too human?)

(etel adnan)
(source)