Adulthood Calling? No Thanks, I'm Not Interested. in And The Rest.
- Nov. 26, 2014, 2:43 a.m.
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- Public
Another Morning After, with hangover hair and last night’s mascara a thick black-tar syrup on my eyes. Another Morning After, supine on the sofa in the blurry barrel-lens distortion of that seasick space between Still Drunk and Fucking Hungover. Another Morning After, my tights torn like skin, the filthy whispers of pretty little boys still hot echoes in my ear, my shoes and coat still somewhere on the sticky glass-rubble floor of the nightclub.
He looks at the table, the floor, the ceiling, the tv. So I know he wants to talk. Spit it the fuck out, a Jamaican steel band is playing behind my eyes and I need to eat crisps and my mouth tastes like a bottle of amaretto and four rounds of tequila and twelve vodka shots.
So here it comes, The Problem, spilled like vomit. What’s going on with you? When are you going to grow up? It’s time for us to move forward, move on to the next stage, start a family…
Fuck. Me. WHAT. Excuse me while I spit out my Cheese Puffs, have you seen me recently? I’m falling over in stupid flimsy dresses, falling out of dirty pounding nightclubs, falling into the wrong beds. I’m falling-down drunk, I’m falling down a black hole. I’m wearing my misery in crosshatch down my arms, I’m drifting away dreaming of handfuls of pills knocked back like the answer, of body-shattering self-ending collisions with fast-moving objects or distant stationary tarmac. I don’t know whether I’m living too fast or dying too slowly.
I’m just barely keeping myself alive, it’s all bribes and lies and playing with fire. And you want me to bring another life into this? You must be out of your fucking mind, you’re certifiable.
You will not be impregnating me and levelling us up to Stage Three: The Tedium Of Childcare. I don’t know whether I’m the spark that ignites the party or the spark that will burn my own body in flames, but I do know I am not a mother. Not now, maybe not ever, I wasn’t planning to live long enough to find out.
You will not be impregnating me, and I can state that with a clear degree of certainty. You see… you’d need to be able to fuck me, first.
Deleted user ⋅ November 26, 2014
And here I daydream about when I can answer the call of adulthood lol. Although I do like sleeping in, still, being able to teach and nurture another little soul sounds really nice.
Waiting For Sunrise Deleted user ⋅ November 26, 2014
Actually, that's almost exactly what he feels. I guess at some point my body clock might do what it's meant to and change my mind, but right now all I see is this: nine months of getting enormously fat and miserable. Twenty hours of excruciating pain. A lifetime of my life NEVER belonging to me, ever again. Umm yeah, something tells me I'm really not ready lol. x
invisible ink Waiting For Sunrise ⋅ February 28, 2015
NEVER is right....never ever....
invisible ink ⋅ February 28, 2015
I don’t know whether I’m living too fast or dying too slowly.....
Really caught me when I read this. This echoed of my past and I think there are others who know me in the flesh and blood who may have looked at me and questioned how I am still here functioning with what I have put my mind and body through. Reading the same kind of self reflection from your point of view and now seeing you fighting the good fight I can say it is possible to survive and overcome. The silliness for me as I aspire to unplug from the daily grind of employment a go to a life of leisure...... is I will probably throw myself right back into the maelstrom those who enjoy life through the blur of substance abuse and dangerous living..... I cannot picture myself in the social setting of saintly living....and as far and the family thing you discuss.....hell no......
Waiting For Sunrise invisible ink ⋅ March 01, 2015
The problem is that black and white line, you can only really be one side of it or the other. By nature I think, people crave excitement, intensity, depth of feeling; anything that enhances those experiences for us will always be almost irresistible to an addictive personality. I also can not imagine a social life without alcohol, I use it as a substitute for self-esteem.
I always assumed that as I grew, nature would implant in me a need for reproduction... it hasn't, and I'm not getting any younger...