Category Archives: real talk

Ignored (But Not Surprised)

I’m back! To finish the horribleness I experienced with the Officers and my neighbor. You know, the one with the fence that looks stupid.

My backyard and the neighbors ugly as sin fence.

Luckily for my neighbor, his relentless pounding on my front door at 7:00 A.M. last Good Friday did not wake my Mother.

When she did wake up I told her what happened and we talked for a long time about the nerve of him and how he wasn’t getting on our property today and we decided that I would compose a Hold Harmless agreement for my neighbor and his workers to sign when they would inevitably come back to call on the fence request.

Right?

After all that he’d certainly come back, and when he did I wanted to be ready.

So I drafted the document, revised it 17-77 times and finally printed copies of it the Tuesday after Easter.

I wanted to be ready.

I know exactly where that document is right now in my legal drawer.

But he never came back again.

Until Wednesday.

When I had to call the police.

Because he had workers trespassing in our back yard again.

I loathe the phrase, “it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.” (And I’m pretty sure that’s my neighbor’s motto in life. Just like it’s the motto of a lot of other men I’ve come across like him in my life.) Why do you think I hate it so much?

Time out. You know, my being drugged and raped by a boyfriend aside.

Time in. I have entitlement issues for sure. But I have some excellent reasons for my irritation surrounding entitlement. (The memoir I’m writing is full of examples of how I was harassed by entitlement.)

Back to Wednesday, I already mentioned what happened but let me be clearer about the chain of events.

Around 8:45 A.M. I was with my Mom in the kitchen before she left for work and I saw a man in my backyard shoving wooden braces into my lawn in an attempt to prop up my neighbor’s fence. I pointed it out to my Mother and went outside to confront the situation.

“Excuse me, Sir,” I yelled as loudly as possible. At first he did nothing, but then he turned around. “You don’t have our permission to do that and you have to stop immediately,” I told him. He replied that he didn’t speak English very well and as I mentioned in my last post shoved a phone in my face. I told the woman on the phone, whoever she was, that he had to leave and they (because a second man entered my property as I was speaking with her) couldn’t be there under any circumstances. She rudely snapped, “I heard you! God!” The man took the phone back and they left my property, but they also left the wooden braces propping up the fence behind. And I knew they would be back because of that.

And I was right.

They entered my property two more times that I am aware of after I had been told I was understood by that nasty person on the phone.

I wanted to sneak in something happy here, so this was the breakfast the boyfriend I’m disgustingly in love with had sent over for me one morning this past week. It was beyond yum. He’s the best. But he’s taken.

The first time I heard them come back because I had cracked open my back door to snoop for the crunching of leaves.

They returned not only to take the wedged pieces but they also started stealing, yes, stealing good strong wood on my property along the fence line. Theft on top of trespassing. This was around approximately 9:30 A.M. — so — my Mom was at work by then.

I hate not having witnesses.

And I hate to say this even more: I hate not having male witnesses.

Why?

If only the Officers hadn’t buddied up with my neighbor so quickly, maybe they would have heard me.

But it’s so difficult to be heard sometimes. Even though you’re very logically and reasonably explaining your safety concerns and how this has happened before and how all your neighbor had to do was sign a paper I spent hours revising just for him. Even though.

Because if I’m a man then me and other men (the Officers) speak the same language of understanding — that stealing, and trespassing, and my concern for liability are all legit.

But because I’m a woman — I’m just hysterical and can’t possibly understand the simple thing that my neighbor is “just doing.”

But I was assaulted. And I mean that literally.

Privacy is a funny thing. I have to assume that everything I’m about to share was intended for me to share since I took the pictures on my property and through a hole in their beast fence.

Their backyard
More backyard
Even more boring backyard

🚔 🚔 Two cars and two male white Officers would eventually show up at my house, take down my driver’s license information, and become degrading sexist friends with my neighbor who they spoke to for mere seconds, which was all that was needed to dismiss everything I was saying, and, whose license they didn’t need even though he drove to my house, and even though I was just standing in my driveway.

Oh wow! Those look suspicious like told that might have been used in the assault.

My asshole neighbor can’t even pretend he wasn’t on my property or that he didn’t tell them to do what they did.

Assault
We even have a fence up that they just climbed over to get what they wanted.
These are the logs that the workers started stealing on their way off my property the second time.

All day I endured the sound of their work, watching. If my neighbor had just come over to me he could have signed this Hold Harmless agreement I wrote and this wouldn’t even be a post.

But he either wasn’t home or just didn’t care.

So the last time they would come over I asked them to leave and they ignored me, at my neighbor’s direction. This was after 4:00 P.M.

I was done.

I called my town’s non-emergency police number and began to file my complaint.

I was asked to describe how the trespassers — who were now being called back over now that my neighbor has heard me yell that last time, “get out or I’m calling the police!” — looked — as in what they were wearing, their skin color, hair color, height, etc. — which took an immense amount of time. As the dispatcher struggled to find my address — the call took approximately 10 minutes and by then the neighbor was trying to call me over to him from behind his fence. I paid him no attention whatsoever, except to look a bit in his exact direction to let him know I was going to do what I was doing no matter what he wanted, the entitled prick.

Besides, the operator told me not to interact with anyone I mentioned, including the neighbor, whatsoever.

Once the operator got my address down correctly (FINALLY), two police vehicles showed up in front of my house where I was waiting for them.

That brick will fix everything 🙄

So one Officer began to get my statement. He listened to me for a few seconds before the second Officer beckoned him to the end of my driveway where my neighbor had driven over to be even more entitled than he had already been that day.

Since this is exactly what went down next, I’ll repeat: And after this same neighbor motioned them to him — to which they really complied — he spoke no more than 20 words to them — causing the Officers to react orally like this: “Yeah, I got you man, I’ll explain it to her,” and, “We’ll tell her.”

I literally rolled my eyes because I knew how this story was going to end and I was right.

It ended with the Officers attempting to explain property lines and fences to me.

And when I tried to speak up for myself, I was talked over and interrupted. As I refused to concede that nothing wrong had been done that day, the Officers just contributed to change topics and ignored what I had to say about the stealing, the trespassing, how this wasn’t even the first time he’s done this (last Good Friday), and that I am a trained lawyer in real estate and have legitimate concerns about liability.

Their final dismissal was, “well [your neighbor] said they don’t speak English very well so I don’t think they were understanding when you asked them to leave.”

“Then why was I on the phone with a woman who was going to take care of it?!” I wanted to scream. But I could tell with the workers done with the work (say least they better be) and the neighbor now best friends with the Officers, it would be pointless to continue to try plead my case.

They were not listening.

As I said they asked to see my driver’s license, and annoyingly they took down my name and phone number, as if they weren’t going to throw what they’d written on it out.

The Officers said, “well drive over there and we’ll talk to him.” But I have no idea if they actually did, or what would have been said, or why I even bothered calling for help since I couldn’t get any or see any results.

If there is one thing that’s clear: a fence definitely exists.

Fight(ing) Words

Yesterday I had to call the police on my neighbor.

I’m not some crazy chick who doesn’t understand the law.

I’m a retired Attorney.

I deserve respect.

We all do.

But, instead, you might have guessed it, I was mansplained at — by the Officers.

Last year, on Good Friday, a holy holiday my Mom and I observe, at 7:00 in the morning, I hear this pounding on my front door. I was already awake but unless I’m expecting someone I don’t typically open my front door to anyone. I thought, they’ll pound once, then leave us alone. Wrong.

This entity kept pounding and pounding and pounding. He was a relentless pounder, and I became a very angry recipient of that not fun pounding on my door.

Time out. I’ve mentioned I have Fibromyalgia, but I don’t remember if I told y’all what mornings look like for me. It’s agonizing to get moving, if my body will let me at all. Think about a play-dough doll that is scrunched up but not yet hard that you really need to return to its original look, and that’s kind of what I look like. My feet and hands are the worst. To get my feet going is problematic at best. Yes. Every single morning.

Points for anyone who can locate the Lions symbol on my socks. Go Lions!

Time in. So with my feet fighting me I get them into shoes and go downstairs to see what the emergency is. Because it better be a GD emergency for someone to be relentlessly pounding on our door at 7:00 A.M. on Good Friday.

When I open the door I’m not pleasant, and I don’t regret that at all. Being obnoxious earns and warrants a tough attitude in reply.

There are two men standing there. My neighbor dressed in a jumpsuit, and a worker he had clearly hired to do what he thought he could do on this day, which was trespass.

Oh, and don’t forget that COVID was still very much a problem around that time last year. And I was about to encounter an agressive man and a gentle one, neither of which gave me the coutesy of wearing masks. Like, however you feel about the mask thing, if you’re going to be obnoxious and ask something of your neighbor at 7:00 A.M. on a holiday they might observe, maybe err on the side of — maybe the people you’re about to bother would prefer you — a stranger — in a mask.

Y’all have to understand. Once you get through law school and you learn about torts and real estate law, you can’t unlearn or unknow it. It’s there on your mind forever. And I was already riled up for other reasons on top of what was about to be my legal interface.

This book will scare you and haunt you for all your remaining days once read.

“Hi!” my neighbor greeted me cheerfully.

“What’s the emergency?” I reply. “Because there must be something incredibly dire going on for you to disturb my family at 7:00 in the morning on a very religious holy holiday which we happen to observe, by the way. And, my Mom — the best hardest working woman in the world — has a rare day off — which means she gets a little extra sleep — and what you just did is absolutely one of the rudest things you could do. I swear to God if you woke up my Mother — I just can’t imagine what you need at this time of the morning so desperately. Enlighten me.”

Hey. I warned you I wasn’t pleasant.

“Well — right. That’s exactly why I’m here today. I know it’s a holiday which is why I’m trying to get this done today. You know the fence between our yards?”

It’s impossible not to know the fence between our yards.

I say nothing.

The double high fence the neighbors put up because we obviously give a damn about them and would be watching them allllllllll the time if they hadn’t because we have no lives of our own to live. I wonder if it’s permitted.

He continues, “well since I have the day off I thought it would be the perfect time to fix it since it’s leaning. Have you noticed the leaning?”

It’s impossible not to notice the leaning.

🙄

I say nothing.

“So he’s here to just go in your back yard and see what he needs to do on your side of the fence so it doesn’t lean anymore, and I’m going to have it fixed today since it’s a holiday,” he concluded, motioning toward the worker who looked embarrassed about what was happening.

“No,” I say. “That will not be happening. And not just because I’m absolutely disgusted by how early you interrupted my home. First, as I already told you, this is a very holy holiday that we observe, so fence nosies and working with wood and whatever else would not be appropriate on a day when we pray because our Christ was nailed to a wooden cross and died. And second, the owner of this home would have to give her consent. The owner being my Mother. And I’m telling you right now — I’m not waking her up to ask — but I can guarantee her answer. It would be ‘NO.’ And third, I’d tell her to say ‘no’ to you because of the liability issue. So no. Not without me writing up a legal document indemnifing us of any liability, accident, problem, injury, whatever you can think of really — that you and your workers will have to sign before coming onto our property again. Technically you’re trespassing right now — and I do not give you a license to be here.” (License means something like “permission to be on my land” in the way I meant it, not like a driver’s license).

“Okay, so I’m just going to have him take a look back there to see what needs to be done. And can you ask your Mom to let me know if we can proceed?” this man says to me.

Really?

“It’s not happening. And no he can’t go look. You do not have permission to be on our property.” I reply, as calmly as I can.

What’s with people?! And I’m sorry to point fingers, but it’s usually men who talk to me like they didn’t hear what I just said, or they did, but they think they can — like — trick me into changing my mind — or even just do what they want despite what I’m saying because that’s what they want.

I’m overwhelmingly dismissed in situations like this — with men.

I want to be really really REALLY clear that I’m not saying this pertains to all men. I’m saying that when a dispute arises between me and a man like the one I’m describing now — I’m overwhelmingly looked over as a totally irrelevant component to what is going on.

My neighbor tried to do it to me that day — and the Officers did it to me yesterday.

And the Officers did it yesterday after this same neighbor had the nerve to drive to the front of my house, park behind the Officers’ vehicles — motion them to him — to which they complied — and spoke no more than 20 words to them — causing the Officers to react orally like this: “Yeah, I got you man, I’ll explain it to her,” and, “We’ll tell her.”

So back to last Good Friday.

“He just needs to take a look to see what he needs. It’ll be really quick,” my neighbor unbelievably says to me.

“Are you not hearing me? I can come closer, though I’d rather not. It’s not a matter of the amount of time he’ll be there,” I say, super uncomfortably speaking about a man who is present in front of me, “no means no. You do not have the owner’s permission, and it’s not happening.” I retort, beyond livid at this point.

“Okay, well I really want to get it done today. So can you ask your Mom when she wakes up? Perhaps no later than noon?” my neighbor asks.

“Look, I’ll take your phone number, and if she wants to call you, she will. No promises. And noon is when we begin silent prayer for three hours. So don’t expect to be doing work until after 3:00 P.M. if at all.” After this reply, I go inside get a pen and notepad of paper, bring it outside, and as I look at him indicating it was time for him to give me his name and phone number, he grabs the pen and notepad and writes it down himself.

Really?

Aggressive much?

I later threw the pen out and sprayed the notepad with Lysol, you know, because COVID.

It was a pen like this which came in a box of 100. I REALLY hate waste though.

My neighbor hands me back the items and I notice that during the course of the exchange between us, the worker who my neighbor had — full of certain hope — brought along had been backing away from my neighbor bit by bit. I liked this man. He had even smiled when I explained about the wooden cross.

“Okay. I’ll tell my Mother everything,” I say.

“Great. Just make sure she calls me as soon as she wakes up,” my neighbor says.

“This is not a good time to knock on anyone’s door unless they’re expecting you, for future notice. Please do not do it again,” I emphasize the “do not.”

“Sorry,” he says, not at all concerned about what I just said.

“Okay, please leave now.”

“As soon as he just quickly checks out the fence.”

“Do not dare go further onto this property right now. I was so incredibly clear that he cannot do that, you cannot do that, and it’s time to leave.”

Later, I would even created a Hold Harmless agreement for when we anticipated he’d come back — but more on that and my Mom’s reaction later.

My neighbor says nothing, and finally walks away. I watch him and his companion get into his car, and I close the door, beyond irate with this privilege this asshole believes he has.

Not 2 minutes later, as I’m scrubbing my hands, do I see the worker checking out the fence in my yard.

Right behind the treehouse my Father built which is flush with flowers and greenery in the spring and summer and even fall, I saw him.

I ran outside to find my neighbor the furthest down the driveway he could get — not wanting to risk dirtying his shoes on what could be mud I’m betting.

“Excuse me!” I yell. “Seriously, get off our property right now! I told you no! Are you kidding me right now?!”

“Okay, okay, we were just looking” my neighbor says to me as if he hadn’t done a thing wrong.

I look at him with the wrath of 10,000 suns colliding into him. He beckons the worker, and they slowly walk to his car. I follow them the whole way. Because this time, in utter disbelief at the nerve of this asshole, I make sure he drives the fuck away before going inside.

So, yesterday morning when I noticed a different man on our property, I went outside and told him he couldn’t be there. He said he couldn’t speak English well and shoved a phone toward my face. I told the person on the phone that he could not be on my property under any circumstance. I told her that no one was permitted to be on our land at all and he needed to leave. She rudely told me she understood.

The fence

But I knew it wasn’t over. So I went to my computer, opened the door so I could listen for the suspicious crunching of leaves, and went to work. So when the crunching came, I was not surprised.

Our property which they very much invaded.

And yesterday, while the mansplaining Officers tried to explain how fences work because I guess they thought that was the issue I needed educating about target than listening to why I called them in the first place — (I was a Real Estate Sorry for 6 years — and I bet everything I have that I know more about fences than them) — I wasn’t listened to my trying to explain to them my concerns regarding trespassing and liability. I’m so disgusted by what happened.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Life Interrupted

I passed the NY and NJ Bar Exams on my first attempt. I obtained a job as an Attorney. I received regular considerable raises, and I would have liked to work in this practice for the rest of my life.  I was on the firm’s letterhead.

My PTSD, trauma, anxiety, and depression progressed during the four years I worked for the same office. Eventually I would get panic attacks every day, calling my boyfriend during my breaks crying.

During this period, my psychiatrist tried several different medications in an attempt to regulate my increased anxiety, PTSD, trauma, and depression. We adjusted my medication no less than four times before we found a combination that made it possible for me to work approximately twelve hour days.

Nevertheless, I was still having panic attacks and when I was yelled at by people in the office, clients, or vendors, my anxiety, trauma, and PTSD were triggered. 

I was diagnosed with “c-diff” after getting tests back from my Gastroenterologist. I was then confined to my home because of the dangerous contagiousness of the disease.

I did not leave my apartment for 5 months. Look it up. It IS that contagious.

I started coloring and sending my coloring to friends.

I took pictures of everything.

A weed’s tiny flower juxtaposed with my apartment.

I worked incredibly hard for ten years to get to the place I wanted to be, only to be met with illnesses that would keep me from doing what I put so much time, money, and effort into. Becoming an Attorney was not an easy thing to accomplish, and I believed it would be my final career, which would have been a significant part of my life. 

But I’m still here.

For the win.

Lions!!!!!

Worst Anniversaries

My Daddy died 9 years ago today. It was so far the worst day of my life.

My Daddy was my best friend.

At one of my sister’s basketball games.

We used to go to this one diner on Sunday afternoons together after Church.

Every Sunday.

For years.

He was my rock. Helping me through all of my silly problems.

I was his sponge. I absorbed all of the knowledge he had to give.

So when my Father died, I can say that I truly knew him. And that brings me so much peace. And I know not everyone can say that about their parents. So I also know how lucky I am to have REALLY gotten to know my Daddy.

Another one of my sister’s basketball games.

You can see in the above picture that my Dad is wearing a TCNJ hat. That’s where my sister played. (I’m wearing a shirt I made that is a replica of my sister’s Jersey back then.) But you can also see that my Dad is wearing the Scarlet Knight on his sweater, which he had my Mom sew on, so he would always be showing support for both of us.

He was the best.

Of course I miss him all the time.

But every time I see a red fox, 🦊, or an acorn, 🌰, or a flower, 🌷, I know it’s my Dad saying “what’s up?!”

A gift from my Mom.

I wear acorns on my necklace every day, just like I wear a tri-colored cross to match my Mom’s wedding ring colors on the same chain.

Family is so important.

I can’t wait to expand mine.

I know my Daddy’s up in Heaven with everyone else who was taken too soon and he’s making them laugh like crazy. He’s still my hero.

God bless y’all.

Only I Could Fall Asleep While Doing Yoga

Go Lions! (Suck it, Aaron Rodgers!!!!!)

I’ve had the craziest couple of days. Accomplishing so much that I’ve been putting off it is actually amazing — well — to me at least.

And I couldn’t have done it without my supportive super thoughtful boyfriend.

Long story short, my Mom and I went to 3 stores yesterday and my spoons were running on empty toward the end of the day. But it was so much worse for my poor Mom.

I ended up doing everything associated with checking out 2 full carts of groceries, hoping I had enough bags since we have to bring our own now, worried about my Mom who I brought to the car, so I’m unloading and then bagging and then navigating 2 carts to the car and then unpacking all the bags and then we get home and priority number one was obviously my Mom, but to make sure she could rest I had to put 3 stores of groceries away. And I did. Alone. And when I was done I realized I forgot to get the one thing that I eat as a snack: string cheese.

And I was on Google meet with my boyfriend when I had this realization out loud.

So, I am doing my yoga today, literally about to fall asleep from exhaustion from the past two days, and he video chats me and says go to your front porch there’s something that’s been dropped off.

Playing outside. This isn’t how I do yoga. I don’t wear my flip flops. I promise.

So I happily pause my yoga since I was seriously about to fall asleep (narcolepsy and all) — I go to the front door and open it and see I had no idea what on the porch so I picked up these bags and from Florida, my amazing boyfriend has 4 bags of string cheese delivered to my door.

I was seriously about to cry it was so sweet and I am so tired and he’s just the most thoughtful awesome man.

I’m so in love with him it’s not even funny.

And just as I told him, even if he never did anything like that for me, I’d love him just as much.

He’s a keeper.

I think I’m going to keep him forever and ever.

And that’s that.

I wanted to share a sweet happy moment in my life with y’all because I feel like I don’t get to do that very much.

So this meant a lot.

And he means the world to me.

And I’m so grateful to have such a devoted man in my life right now.

I don’t ever want to find out what I’d do without him. I want to love him forever and ever.

And you know what?

I think I will.

I Want You Forever

Although I’ve put it out there I wanted to introduce formerly, my boyfriend.

He lives in hot, sunny Florida.
Note the sweater versus the topless beach look. (He was at the beach, in all fairness.)

We’ve been dating since August, but we became exclusive in November.

I had been also dating another guy — and yes they knew about each other — but I just had to be with my exclusive boyfriend because, well, I’m infatuated and obsessed with him. There are a lot of other reasons too.

But whenever I’d push him away I’d say, “we’re over forever and I’m never going to be with you,” and he calmly replied, “I think you will.”

And he was always right.

I always came back to him.

I’ve been sick over him.

I’ve felt better because of him.

Like all of us, he’s not just one thing. He plays many roles in my life now.

I wish I could adequately express my thanks to him for the things that are extra that he’s done for me. I doubt I’ll be able to do them justice, but I’m so grateful to him for so much.

He’s kept me going during the past 4 months. If not for him? I’d be lost. I might have even been so lost I couldn’t find my way back. But he has kept me going. Every day we make each other feel loved and feel wanted and feel needed and feel purpose. We’re going to get to each other. That’s our purpose. It’s a Blessing. For both of us.

He loves Peyton.
Best buds.

He loves the Browns who are orange BTW.

This man has sent me flowers, TWICE — (once with chocolates).

I’ve NEVER before loved someone the way I love him. NEVER.

This man has bought me and my Mom breakfast, from Florida. This man has bought me and my Mom a surprise dinner, from Florida. This man sent me and my Mom Christmas cards from Cleveland (he was visiting fam). This man sent me a Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow poster because he knows me like that.

I love you too, babes.

Our relationship started off pretty bumpy. As I said, I tried to end it more than once. But I couldn’t stay away from this man. He has a spell on me. He’s my air. He makes my life.

I cannot wait for the day we actually get to meet face to face, and he can feel the love I have for him.

He’s my person. And I’m so happily in love.

Continue reading I Want You Forever

Ode to “Bad Things” pt 2 (finale)

I fucking love when MGK says “keep it strange” because we definitely do that. And I do feel like we both feel like we’re fucking crazy insane sometimes because we just can’t get enough of each other like this — but I know that I feel like I’m not a “normal” person — I do feel that I’m “strange.” And I often feel like I’m insane. But I think maybe you feel the same way — so when he says “but you the same” you relate to me in my strange insanity because we follow each other — and we’ve trusted each other — with really important things and because of that it we fold into each other again. And it’s beautiful.

            So, the sex scene in his first verse is weird, because you and I don’t have the ability to do that stuff to each other yet, but for whatever reason — they way he describes him with his girl — it’s like — oh yes — I feel like that could be exactly what it’s like for us. Let’s get graphic. It’s going to be exactly what MGK says: “Drop it down to that base drum; I got what you dream about; Nails scratching’ my back tatt; Eyes closed while you scream out; And you keep me in with those hips; While my teeth sink in those lips; While your body’s giving me life; and you suffocate in my kiss.” Oh, baby: “If you only knew the bad things I like,” could not be a more appropriate description for my bedroom behavior. I can’t imagine having sex with you as being anything other than incredibly fucking passionate as fuck. I know we’re going to drown in each other. That’s kind of the best way I can describe it.

            MGK’s second verse’s sex scene sounds hot and I think we should do it. I’ll put on heels and nothing else if that is what you want baby. Anything for you, Daddy.

            I am you’re pretty naughty good little vixen. And you are the voice in my head that keeps telling me to do the things that I do and I keep wanting to do them for you because I love you just so god damned fucking much baby.

            We sing “I want you forever.”

            Especially when we’re not together.

            We’re getting tattoos and I’m literally putting scars on my body so I can take you wherever, whenever. Talk about “if you only knew the bad things I like; Don’t think that I can explain it; what can I say, it’s complicated.” You do know the bad things I like, and I know what bad things you get off.

            We are so Addictively obsessed with each other that it doesn’t matter what one of us says or does — all we can think about is what bad things we want to do to each other. I think it’s obvious what that means: we cannot control ourselves around each other. It feels so good to be with the other person — it’s impossible to explain.

            We’re not out of our heads and we’re not out of our minds. We’re just absolutely desperately addictively longingly obsessively totally in love with each other, and our vibe is so perfect together that I think other people wouldn’t get it. And that’s all right. Because “the way we love is so unique; and when we touch I’m shivering; And no one has to get it; Just you and me; Cause we’re just living.” You and me, Daddy. I want you forever. Promises. Because baby I’m never going to leave you. I got you.

The end.

An Ode to “Bad Things”

This is a story about what I imagined a couple who lived the life of the song “Bad Things” by Machine Gun Kelly would be like. This is part 1 and I’ve put a link below for your convenience if you want to listen to the song first.

Watch “Machine Gun Kelly, Camila Cabello – Bad Things (Official Music Video)” on YouTube. https://youtu.be/QpbQ4I3Eidg

It’s us.

            Most of this song basically summarizes our relationship so far. The good and the bad. The choices. The way I’ve made you feel. The way you’ve made me feel. The way we make each other feel — and especially as to that last one — how much closer the way you feel and the way I feel has started to change into the way we feel.

            Things have not always been smooth with us. That’s life. It’s messy and fucked up and there are a lot of things that can go badly. I was incredibly scared of you after your bike accident. I suppose sometimes that fear is still a little bit there.

            So, when MGK says “nothing’s that bad; if it feels good,” I usually think of that first incident. After that happened, I thought I knew exactly what you were and what you’d do and how you are — and I’ve realized maybe I don’t. And I don’t like putting people into boxes anyway. No one wants to be judged by the worst thing they’ve done. No one wants to be judged based on how they behaved on their worst day or even just a bad day. No one deserves that. None of us are just one thing or one way. No matter how much we want to, we cannot group people into tiny boxes that we create to try to control the chaos in our life. At least I don’t think we should. So, I realized if I wanted to practice what I believe about that, I have to look at you as a whole person — and not just the parts of you that have made me feel really uncomfortable in our relationship. I eventually realized that nothing was going to be that bad — if everything else is so good. It outweighs that bad and then some.

            Then I came back to you. My love. I couldn’t stay away from you. I was drawn to you like an Addict — and that is real talk. I still am. I don’t know how you knew I would come back — but back I came. I remember me trying and trying to convince myself to be with that other person and telling you that you and I were over and you needed to stop interfering because I was terrified it was going to fuck things up for me. It’s weird how anxious I got in hindsight, because the truth is that I had said and done all of the things with you that you were threatening to send screenshots to him about. Perhaps at that point I had convinced myself that you were toxic for me once again even though I am just as wild and toxic because I did those bad things with you.

            My feelings turned around about you again though when you didn’t actually send much of anything too incriminating. You could have, but it was like even though you could have blown up my relationship, you were protecting me or something. Or maybe you just wanted me to come to the decision to come back to you on my own. I don’t know why you didn’t do it. I just know you didn’t. And you let me make my mind up. And I just kept telling you it was over and I was never coming back — like the night was young in our relationship — because I was trying to convince myself that I was never going to go back to you and I just kept repeating that over and over and over again and you just kept answering me with “I think you are,” and you just wouldn’t give in — like at all. No leverage whatsoever.

            And you were always fucking right about me coming back every time. And I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for the ping pong. I don’t know what drew me to that idiot — but I wasn’t obsessed with him like I was about you. And I hope you won’t judge me based on my bad days. I think the lines “I can’t explain it; I love the pain,” apply to you here in this way. You suffered having to wait for me to come back to you but you knew I would. Something about me kept you around. Maybe something about you kept me around. And honestly, sincerely, and completely, it shocked the hell out of me that you did. I truly in my heart and my mind expected you to be happy we broke up and just move on — at least the first time. And when you didn’t immediately do that — I was shocked. For real. I had no idea what I was in store for next. Forgiveness.

            For me the “I can’t explain it; I love the pain,” lyric refers more to the times when you did fuck up. Because the thing about when you fuck up baby — is you fuck up hard. And it is very painful for me to endure. The other chicks made me sick to my stomach. The things you said you were going to do and have and even your hesitation to text those girls was killing me. When you blocked my number and I couldn’t reach you I was so desperate I called from a blocked number. I needed you. I can’t believe you’d sit and watch me worried on the other side of that screen and not pick up. That’s so cruel. I was so sick over all of those things. Then of course the day that you got drunk and called me at the bus station totally wasted was hell too, because I knew you wouldn’t be reliable for the rest of the day since I know what it is like to blackout — and selfishly — for me that meant that I wasn’t going to get Eric for the rest of the day. And I wanted him back so badly. I can’t say I love the pain, but I will say I can’t explain how I have gotten through the bad times.

            And you’re my drug. And I do breathe you in until I’m numb. You are intoxicating. I can’t wait for the next text or call or Google meet — I crave every word you send me and every sentence you write and everything you say and watching everything you do. You just amaze the fuck out of me babes. And I don’t know if it is exactly the same for you — but I have to assume it is something like it — because you keep texting and calling and Google meeting with me. You spend so much time with me. We are so fucking Addicted to each other, and I don’t fucking care. Because we numb each other from the pain we have from every single other fucking thing that sucks in our lives, and that craving is insatiable for both of us. We can’t get enough. We breathe together during all of these times, and it numbs us like novacaine. So we’re always high on each other. And it feels really normal. 

What Couldn’t You Just?

Look this way

Try it

Like that

Listen to me

Take a God Damned minute

Let me have your cigarette

Fake something

Be honestly him

Take what you wanted

Give nothing back

Everybody hates me

No one ever waits for me

The wind at my front

So many moments I let go free

Because they’re not the ones for me

I try to need

Something strong to make me bleed

But bruises contusions

All an illusion

This clown is confusin’ a gig

With who has us losin’ big

And it’s not about what makes us ideal

It is the threat of the appeal

Face facts

Are you for real

Maybe tomorrow doesn’t exist

In this month

On this day

Or this year

Why can’t I ever shut up and not fight?

Your death

My life

I’m constantly battling

Confused; baffling

There’s nothing left

It’s shaken and broken

And permanently fractured

Look at my life, see that I’ve woken

Don’t look at that one

Not in the eyes

I’m tired of warnings

Most of them lies

And I’m hypnotized

By the cries

And guise

The unfair amount

Of conditional goodbyes

They aren’t stupid

Every day you leave the house

They feel it in their bones

Tonight might be the night

Daddy’s not coming home