from earlier

I have to admit, I have spent the last thirteen days in some sort of sweltering rage that didn’t have the courage to reveal itself other than through sputtering, ugly bursts of tears that were tiring, and terrible.

It came to the point where I let you—who we’d all accepted as hopelessly arrogant—get to me, and for a moment there, I let myself think that I was the mindless, wandering, timid fool you think I am. I mean this exactly as I say it: Psshhh.

Pshhh to several men in my life who have let me down, one above all. I was a fool, chasing your love and protection like a nine-year old lost on the boardwalk. I was a fool, believing that you owed me filial affection, believing that you were the panacea to everything that may/may not have gone wrong in my life! Pshh, to you. We don’t need you, and we never had. The strongest woman I know raised me to be strong. Strong like crying when you mean it, unashamed, and with passion. Strong like several jobs and a heart bigger than her ribcage should house. We are better than fine. We’re strong. As for the other thirteen? I’m hoping they’re sane enough to stay far away. (That one verse comes to mind, and I guess for now…I’d be happy to “honor you” from afar. Far, far, away…)

I will listen to Aretha Franklin and Tina Turner and Billie Holiday, and know that I can love you and never see you again, all at once. The rage has passed; now, to indulge in this Thursday’s sunshine, just me, longboard II “Liz”, and our furious lust for life.