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[[Mother|my mother]] [[Father|father.]] [[Me]]

My mother was notably less [[punctual]] than my [[father.]] The general consensus of those who bothered to attend [[her funeral]] was that she had lived much longer than anyone had expected, making her tardy in [[death]] as well as [[life.]]

She would reliably descend in times of hardship. It was the only thing I could rely on. She played the part of mother expertly, seamlessly, and undetectably, to all except me. When she played nurse, my sickness seemed to [[rejuvenate]] her.

I visited my father on days I needed an ice bath by way of his frigidity. He wouldn’t stand to greet me when I’d stop by. Sometimes I think some steeliness could wake me up. [[A paternal scalpel.]] When I'd talk, his eyes would shift and dart and attach to whatever inspired [[neutral emotion.]] He’d fixing on avoid [[what moved him.]]

She was so inherently tardy that in a serendipitous turn of events her casket was lost in transit temporarily. No one was surprised. No one could be angry anymore. This was the last time she would make them wait.

My mother's body was the inarguably beautiful shell of [[a walking corpse.]] She had murdered and buried herself, building [[new women]] in her place recursively.

She inspired intense feelings exclusively. She spent her days crafting a web which fooled most on a surface level, but in the right light [[you could see it clearly]] and in its complex totality.

My mother would plant seeds of despair in me. When it was time for harvest, she would bask in my misery. Photosynthesizing. My mother seemed to bloom, then disappear again, looking six months younger. My condition only worsened at the waxing and waning of her presence. On occasion, I found myself momentarily comforted by the idea of a mother. By fault of this biological disposition, I betrayed myself. I’d find myself hoping against all [[logic]] for a mother’s sincerity. I could not avoid it. I was always disappointed.

I would use all my remaining strength to retain that distinction of [[reality]] and [[myth.]]

My reality was [[isolation.|alone]] It's better to be alone.

[[Love...|alone]

I sought a concrete confirmation of my unlovable nature and the failure of our connection. I never had to ask, it was a silent agreement between us. My father would always deliver. His parenting consisted of symbiotic self harm routines wherein we could play [[the parts we love to play most.]]

Martyr and autocrat.

The lightly frayed corners of the cool grey couch cushions. A cup full of neatly placed identical black ballpoint pens.

The suffocated plant in a pot without a hole for drainage. My cloudy eyes, like [[my mother's|my mother]], like murky spring water. How my voice had changed.

This abandoned husk was hosted by [[parasites]] of her own invention. She was a ghost of a ghost in life.

If you listened closely, you can hear the parasites eating. From the inside out.

Each woman in her had a role to play in harmony. Sometimes [[lover|father.]], sometimes [[mother|my mother]], sometimes [[monster|a walking corpse.]], sometimes [[human]].

It was remarkable that she could present as one whole solidified person. Her existence was illusionary and incredible.

You could catch it in her gaze, just beyond the surface, in her most believably sincere moments. It [[reflected]] in her expanded pupils, like a jaw agape. Once you saw it, the only thing worse was [[what lie beyond it.]]

I see it in myself, [[this thing which I rebuke.|what lie beyond it.]] I try to exercise and cleanse myself of it to no avail. What evil I inherited.

Emptiness.

I wish I didn’t fight it. [[I won't anymore.]] I hope [[something changes]] soon.

To-Do List: 1) [[Get rid of my belongings]], except the ones which are [[useful]] or serve an [[emotional purpose]] for the remainder of [[my life]] 2) Write to [[those|Untitled Passage]] I am leaving behind 3) Hope [[something changes]].

I am too tired. I just want to burn it all down. To [[blink]] and feel brand new. I want to fall asleep and wake up and find that everything has changed.

[[I close my eyes.]]

What does it even mean to be useful? I don't know how to [[mean something.|behave.]]

Am I doing something wrong? [[Is there a way for me?]]

[[I will forgive you.]] It will go in [[circles]]. It will be physically [[painful.]] It will relieve a lot of pressure. I will wash it all away. I will [[blink]] and feel new. [[I cannot make you care.]]

I don't know how to behave.

I see now. [[I am so scared.]] [[I close my eyes.]]

I can [[take action,]] or just [[wait.]]

No, no. I will not [[dream|I will forgive you.]] forever. I will stop [[hunting.]]

I just want to [[eat]] you.

And it just gets harder and emptier, and [[somehow lonelier|reality]], and [[my body|Me]] falls apart, and it's all so physically [[painful.]]

I can't connect. I just can't [[connect.]]

But I’m not going to eat today. I’m getting ready for [[tomorrow.]]

I am covered in bruises and cuts and bites and rashes. My muscles are stiff and sore. For some reason I keep telling [[everyone|Untitled Passage]] how wonderful yesterday was and how good things are with [[you|your call]].

I am hunting for everything that could go [[wrong]]. I'm sorry, I will [[dream|blink]] about you forever. It's midnight here. [[Why are you calling me?]]

The only thing that feels like it’s all mine is giving up. Being dead sounds so nice. Life just goes in [[circles]].

I am waiting for a [[miracle]].

I am waiting for something. The thing that [[wakes me up|father.]] and shows me how to live. Please give me a [[reason.]]

I am choosing every day to be in my body. I feel afraid because I know it’s where I belong. Have I’ve been running for too long? Am I too sick to [[behave?|behave.]] Am I too sick to stop running?

I’m not sure exactly what you expect to gain from talking to me. I’ve said all I resolved to say. You never ask me anything anyway. [[Why do I even answer the phone?]] What could you possibly have to say to me that means anything?

Would I even know it if I saw it? [[Would I know how to act?|alone]]

It's fine. I don’t need others. [[I’m not missing anything.]] Suffering does not really affect me. [[I am not suffering.|wait.]] [[Nothing affects me.|reality]] My reactions mean nothing. Love is good, and easy. [[Love is everywhere.|myth.]] Everything is perfect. [[I don’t need anything.|Get rid of my belongings]]

I wish I wanted to live, really!

It's just like every other day. Why am I still [[alive?|Me]]

I need to [[warn|behave.]] you.

Am I trying to [[prove]] something? Am I just [[curious]]?

There is so much evidence to prove my stuckness. My surrender to loneliness. Nothing to show for my desire to [[love.|myth.]]

Are there some [[magic|wait.]] words we can say to each other now? Would that would break us free, show us what the other has turned away from? [[What the other cannot see?|Is there a way for me?]] Can we change each other? I think we may have already done that. I think we may both be [[blind|blink]] forever.

I am covered in bad bruises and cuts and bites, my muscles are stiff and sore; and for some reason I keep saying how wonderful yesterday was and how good things are with [[you|your call]].

[[Why are you calling me?]]

[[I feel awful. This feels awful. [[I can't stay here.]]

That’s great, I feel great I feel afraid. I feel OK I will still answer [[your call]] at midnight.