That would be such a good album name. I did some fucked up thing to my knee tonight playing futsal, and it’s like the 17th time i’ve gotten injured and I feel like some force in the universe is just telling me to stop trying. And it hurts, and my leg keeps bending the wrong way, and it’s honestly really funny other than the pain and the fact that I now can’t walk or bike and that gets in the way of my ability to do literally everything.
I really really hate being injured, just like I really really hate being sick. And I don’t know what it is. I am always so afraid of being less capable than the people around me and so I desperately try to keep up. And I have no idea where that fear came from but it has shaped everything about me.
My first instinct when I get hurt is to walk it off. I feel like I have to just get up and get better and I hate ever feeling like I’m weak and being injured makes me feel weak. I hate having to limp and I hate having to sit out and I hate being a burden to other people. And that’s how I felt tonight.
I think since I was a kid I’ve always felt like I have to pick up after myself and take care of myself and those are really good things, because I never want to be beholden or dependent on another person, but in a weird backwards paradox girls are also socialized to search and strive to be dependent on someone. And i realize this all probably sounds dumb and it’s 1am and I always say everything I write sounds dumb and I’m sorry. All I really wanted to say is this:
Someone opened a car door for me tonight. Someone ordered me a lyft and opened the door and closed it for me. And it has been so long since someone has done that. The last not-my-father person to do that was my high school boyfriend, who only ever did it because I talked about how much I loved that. Tonight someone did it like it was nothing.
The shitty thing is I know it was nothing. I know this boy, and I met him at a party and all he did was ask me about another girl. I remember feeling kind of dumb-drunk offended then, but I didn’t really care, until he closed the car door and I sat there thinking this might have been the nicest thing someone has done for me in a long time. Which is pretty depressing, and also probably wrong.
The whole way home I felt warm because of this simple act of kindness, because another friend volunteered to ride my bike home, because here were people, not leaving me behind even though I am weak, even though I am a burden. And the honest truth is it probably means nothing, and it is so fucking stupid that I’m even writing this and I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish but I guess I’m tired of constantly trying to accomplish everything.
I have quite literally broken my back trying to work three jobs and take the hardest class load I’ve had here yet, and I know I can’t stop because if I do I’ll feel idle and useless. Something about this stupid profit driven school has turned me into a capitalist cog and I feel like I have to be productive all the time every day until I literally collapse. Which I tend to do.
I get home panting from wherever I was, I pour myself water, I make myself food, I tuck myself in and cry myself to sleep and honest to god I have found a way to make myself into enough of a reason to keep living but some nights I’m really tired of being my own 3am. I feel like, ever since I was eight I’ve wanted to find someone to hold me when I’m cold, to let me fall asleep next to them, to open my car doors. But all I’ve had is a lifetime of disappointment.
I wrote a poem the other day, and it started “I want to tell you a story about womanhood,” and it was quite powerful (I think) but it wasn’t really the story I wanted to tell. The truth is I feel weak. I feel exhausted and ragged and powerless, like someone has thrown me into an infinite wash cycle and not on the delicate setting. All I’ve learned is that it is possible to be let down 100% of the time, it is possible to fall in love with the wrong people, it is possible to think someone who abuses you cares for you, and the only way to stop being beaten to the pavement is to give up on ever finding someone that defies all those truths.
So when the boy opens my car door I feel the flicker of hope in my heart, a ‘maybe’ echoing in my bloodstream. When the girl cooks me salmon made with fresh lemons off the tree in her backyard, I wonder if there’s a chance. But I see her kissing other girls, and I remember the way that boy looked at another girl while i spoke and I remember that I am me. Loud, jagged, annoying me. I am not the kind of girl nice people fall in love with, and I’ve spent my entire life trying to make myself someone other people fall in love with. So I don’t know what the fuck to do now.
I’m so beyond the point of fixing it I feel like I just have to walk it off until maybe I’ll be reincarnated as like a cool, socially conscious, smart, artsy blonde girl who can play the bass and also hack into nasa or some shit. I don’t know. Some days I love the way my sharp edges don’t fit anywhere clean. But it’s honestly quite lonely, and trying to do anything with a backwards kneecap and a herniated disk is painful and nearly impossible. So I’m gonna drink ibuprofen and tuck myself in and pretend someone else is keeping me warm.
Goodnight.