.......on being a fool sometimes
I yelled at Sean yesterday. for no good reason.
On days when I embellish on playing the role of someone who believes that if there is any wrinkle on my plan, or if I'm having a blue day, it must be because someone (other than me) is not doing what they should, and therefore responsible for what I do or not do, get or not get, feel or feel numb about.
On those days I push, push buttons, bully, pout, tap my foot, give the evil eye.
On those days a two year old on its proudest moment of "terrible two's behaviour" has nothing on me (or is it the other way around?).
On those days, he turns himself into a black hole, sucking in all my despair, he kills me with kindness, he tucks me in at night.
But on those very days, after the two year old in me gets the toy, the bully in me has bitted up the last kid on the playground, when I'm done crying a river, and given everyone enough evil looks, I get to look at him, and as he always does, the guy becomes my favourite part of the day, my favourite smell, my favourite flavour; his hair my favourite thing to play with, his skin my favourite thing to touch.
when I hug this guy, my head barely reaches his chest, but that is where I hear his heart bit the loudest. I think we fit
On days when I embellish on playing the role of someone who believes that if there is any wrinkle on my plan, or if I'm having a blue day, it must be because someone (other than me) is not doing what they should, and therefore responsible for what I do or not do, get or not get, feel or feel numb about.
On those days I push, push buttons, bully, pout, tap my foot, give the evil eye.
On those days a two year old on its proudest moment of "terrible two's behaviour" has nothing on me (or is it the other way around?).
On those days, he turns himself into a black hole, sucking in all my despair, he kills me with kindness, he tucks me in at night.
But on those very days, after the two year old in me gets the toy, the bully in me has bitted up the last kid on the playground, when I'm done crying a river, and given everyone enough evil looks, I get to look at him, and as he always does, the guy becomes my favourite part of the day, my favourite smell, my favourite flavour; his hair my favourite thing to play with, his skin my favourite thing to touch.
when I hug this guy, my head barely reaches his chest, but that is where I hear his heart bit the loudest. I think we fit