Baggage

You know it's like the song says.  “It’s gonna be a long way to happy”

 

~That’s because you’re carrying too much fucking baggage.

 

Fuck you.

 

~You don’t have the equipment sweetie but if you want we can take a day trip to the City so you can get some.

 

No fuck you.  You think you have it all together but look at yourself look at your life.

 

~I’m sorry did I hurt your feelings?

 

Yeah.

 

~I didn’t mean to.

 

I know… where are you going?.

 

She was  just sitting there  in her oversized sweater, the computer screen turning her skin this weird shade of bluish white.   She looks small and frail and I love her.  For a long time she has been a sister to me but I decline all invitations to all pity parties, not out of being a bitch, not out of lack of compassion but out of self protection.  Attendance at these functions does one of two things.

~ gives me that thank goddess that is not me feeling that poor sob

~encourages me to throw my own

 

Neither of these are accepted schools of thought for me.  I don’t like watching other people’s train wreck since I’ve started to pull myself from the rubble of my own.  And this particular train wreck has been happening for a long ass time. 

 

~Home… it’s late and I work in the morning.   I love Pink you know I do but fuck that song.  Maybe you shouldn’t be listening to it.   Indie Arie has a song called Hope another one called I Choose.

 

I need to process this you know.

 

~You’ve been processing for 13 years.

 

Fuck you

 

~Day trip

 

It doesn’t make any difference… life is shit, life is always gonna be shit.  You have moments when it’s good and then it all gets fucked.  Every time like clockwork.

 

~If you want to see it that way….

 

You’re not perfect you know.

 

I laugh because I am perfect…  and I am flawed, weird, obsessive, extreme and one strange little girl but I am perfect at being the me I am right now in this moment, today… as I walk away.

 

You’re a megalomaniac.

 

~I know.

 

You really have to leave?

 

~Yep

 

Well goodnight hun.

 

~Goodbye dear.

 

 

It’s been five months since I walked out of that apartment that night.  Away from a woman that was a sister to me. 

 

Turns out she was then and is now is sister to a dead woman. A dead woman who in life had delighted in misery, who always said I can’t, who blamed others for her problems, who used everything from weather to weight as an excuse not live fully.    I know this woman is dead because I offed the pathetic punk ass bitch … I only keep her pictures around as a warning.

 

A warning to never ever be that woman again

 

That wasn’t how it started though.

I wanted to help this person see her own beauty, her own power.  But I wasn’t strong enough to lift myself let alone her.  So I sank down besides her… spent hours with her at the grave of our dreams in happy content mourning.

 

Occasionally I would tell her things like

You can do it

You deserve happy

You should stop giving away your power

You have to cut the toxic people out of your life

 

I tried to pound this message into her repeatedly and one day I got bitch slapped by the universe and realized that the unsolicited unheeded advice I was giving was really meant for me.  That this person I was so close to was a reflection of myself…. I didn’t like what I saw.  So I took my own advice. 

 

 

She’s calling now.

This sister to a dead woman.

She is sending out the usual feelers in all the usual directions

 

And I am at a loss

Wondering if I am strong enough now to take her on.

Wondering if my lesson is to let go.