I think there is something vehemental in sharing the expectation of thought. As in “I thought about this/that/you/where-it-came-from. Origins and I bored door hinges with expectations that I am where I want to be. I already tossed out the original 6-month plan and have ushered into “The Age of Inertia” or other ~myageofinertia as something that deems entirely obsolete and has served its purpose for 2 months rather than the 20 years I thought I was going to base it off.
I have someone in my life, my Partner. He’s an asshole. Everything about him is obligatory and this morning I’m cheesed to brims grander than my Vans hat I committed for a solid 4 days of brimming before I forgot about it because I was doing something else. It’s been 2 days since I wrote because I feel behind and was awful in my cancerous statements, sentiments, and sediments of my cacophonous lungs that know no other than spitting up and sarging the shchnoz into fruition where my sinuses can keep up.
So, to say the least –
=I’m overwhelmed.
Some guy wants to date me, marry me, and divorce me 4 times all over again just to make Partners look like something more beautiful than it is. I love to hear him talk about work and his work, and I love to talk about my work but he never tells me about the work he does that is my work and my other work is his work too but he doesn’t care about that full-time and rather see what I’m doing. When our promotions are fleeting and always in the other direction of each other for checks and balances (rather, my caution and awared-ness taking me into sakes of “I need distance for functioning and support at home to keep going, – which has gotten really weird because I work from home and I only have another home job besides my counting 204 that take my daily route everyday. And he has 1 more than me, and 40 he hides from me just to keep the dialect of “I have a lazy wife.” You have 3 lazy ex-wives and I’m the only one you want you mean, because I make you look lazy and that’s the hardest working person-of-this-interest that I’ve met besides of course, my Father. Who’s saying he doesn’t get to sleepover but traveled the world with us for 3 years together and said “That Guy’s full-of-shit.” and I’m having to explain to my Mother that “That Guy’s full-of-shit.” when he’s talking about his business, job, and how long he’s been in the game and my Mother doesn’t know I worked with him 20 years ago and then some while she connived for the better part of 5 years and I was cleaning his house and filling his prescription coordinating with his doctor and pharmacist for a telehealth-wfh solution while I was on my 3rd Ph.D and no one gave me shit when I was 14 and emancipated still living with my parents for 6 years then: Why? They can check my social to see my education level with SSA, not the school system lmao.
So yes, I’m worried.
I’ve decided not to post this.
Let’s see if I really post it.
I’m so frazzled poetry couldn’t help me, and a poem wouldn’t nourish me.
I have too many in my head.
I couldn’t find a playlist and put it on the overarching Deftones playlist because the racket in my head was too loud as I talk about a man that got me 4 times now and he’s trying to go for 7 and already planning our breakups, makeups, the next ring, and who tf is going to buy my groceries when I’m traveling at the speed-of-light ‘6IX POSTS A DAY” to handle my life and I have a solid 3 ways to manage my telecommunications and I neglect 1 a day.
The guilt to choose work over your loved one when all you do is argue because they woke you up too early over the phone and he’s bored with no work so you disconnect, bitch to and with your mother unfortunately having to explain Matriarchal Leadership amongst ServiceMembers to my Mother that has had 31 years married eventually becoming a Spouse after 20 Years that “You’re feel of shit, dude.” Equates to: “I’ve known that guy a good 20-30 years.”
Time keeps a rolling, my Friends. Time keeps a ticking while tocking dots because I created work for some asshole that loves my work and is glistened melon when I read it to him over the phone recapping “What do you mean it’s been 6 weeks since we’ve been seeing each other again??”
I thought that was a solid 4 years ago.