(no subject)
I'm wondering what its like to be ready to go. Why bother getting this surgery that's just going to be complicated and drawn out, when you can instead wait for infection to seep into your leg and quickly spread to the rest of your body? Seems like an easy enough choice, when you've been miserable for the last decade of your life, when your husband has been gone for 5 of those years, and when you've just shaved all of your hair off so you don't have to deal with it anymore.
She's done her hair every day. Every day.
My little cousins are overhearing the conversations the adults try to hiss in the kitchen, and they write notes to my grandma saying things like "Don't give up, Grandma" and "You'll get better". Imperatives, not wishes.
when my grandma asked "don't you all just have a pill or something?", the doctor told us about how in Oregon, M.D.s are in fact allowed to give qualified patients a killer pill. Then the doctor told us that most of the patients who receive the pill go home, and don't actually take it. they just keep it on them, just in case.
I got a bump under my tongue, in the exact same spot where i placed a thin film of tasteless paper a few nights before. I got to watch my friends' eyes grow wider as we watched the lightening storms in the woods. I watched the sun come up over this beautiful shitty little hill in shitty wonderful Maryland, the most comfortable and restless I've been in a while. I'd allowed myself to go and find the middle of that field and run away from everybody there with me, forgetting who i was supposed to be, what i was supposed to be doing. i got cut up by the grass that came up to my waist but it cut me all the way up to my neck, leaving little lash marks along my skin.