cold congealed oatmeal with golden raisins
it’s always something. my heart, or my stomach, or my back or my… ohsweetJesusIknowyougetthepointbynow. “Boo!” I say to the world, “Boo!”. Pain’s a… and I just remembered, I’ve decided to clean up my language. I let words like shit & damn & seriouslythereIgoagain slip at the most inopportune times.
On Sunday, I got really really angry. I mean, furious. &I started building up every curse word I knew because I’d decided that I was going to scream them. Not at anyone, I’m not that bold or stupid or you know what I’m going to stick with bold and EVERY part of my body hurts right now so I’m writing until it fades and I can work again. What was I saying? Oh anger. Yes, I was. With reason really. My character (I value it.) was being attacked or questioned or… whateveryouwanttocallit and I had to be the bigger person. I had to call person after person and begin unraveling it and listen because they were crying (with reason, honestly) and I had to be… mature. I didn’t want to be. And my phone was dying and my best friend was sitting next to me. That’s important because later I cried and she held me and I remembered that I didn’t have to be ashamed to let her see me cry because she’s picked puke out of my fro before so I just cried because I’m weak and she was being strong. I wish I could explain it but I can’t. Just, something was a straw and I was a camel’s back and then I was just a girl swimming and walking barefoot across a parking lot in the middle of Tulsa in the middle of summer because I needed to redirect emotions.
I was planning to scream every curse word I knew. So I started building them up on that walk back when my feet were hurting and the heat made my vision blur. I walked home and stood in wet clothes in the middle of my living room and then in front of my laptop but when I found myself turning UP the music that somehow was praise instead of dirty rap or angry rock and I opened my mouth to scream, but… I sang instead. I lifted my hands to flip birds at invisible offenders but they kept rising until they were over my head and somehow directing my feet and my hips and I danced instead. Song after song my body talked until I could barely breathe and then it moved me to a black book in two languages with one Word and turned my music DOWN and sat me on the counter before shutting up. “Finally”, I thought, “let the anger pour out! It’s all about me. Let it be about me.” Except, then, my heart started talking. And I sat in a room with two girls and they let me pour my anger out except instead of angry words I prayed for them. And I praised God for everything he’d given me that day. I honestly and sincerely thanked God for how very very broken I felt. And when I walked around the room instead of punching things, I touched them. I asked God’s peace over them. I kept thinking… “When’s it my turn, I should pray for me now. I’m the one who’s angry and sad and broken.” Except, honestly (because that’s what this is about, right?), my broken heart WAS nothing more than an answered prayer and so all I could say when I went to scream in anger was “Thank you God. Thank you God.” And I said it so many times I wondered if I could say anything else and then I remember that they were people too and they were maybe hurting too so I prayed for them because I wanted to… idk what I wanted. To love them. Because my bff (kindred spirit) held me while I cried and didn’t say anything mean or nice or anything other than, I love you. And because that’s what I needed to hear then, I shut my mouth and opened my heart and talked to God or her behalf (and then her behalf) and she cried even though I’ve hardly ever seen her cry and I loved her more then but I loved God more because I realized… well, I’m not sure what I realized but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. And the pain went away. So, I have to as well.
I guess what I wanted to say was… well, I’m not sure. But, you wanna keep me accountable on obscenities? (Who reads this, btw?)