fuck you anyway.

Sometimes it's a little challenging for me to move forward with life. Not because of any other reason, really, besides myself getting in my own way. I was talking to a new friend last night, very new, and she asked me how my day had been as she sipped on her oversized Diet Coke. I said it was ok, that I was a little stressed, even though that was a lie because in reality I was a lot stressed. My eyes watered a little and the floodgates opened - not crying, because the lobby of a tattoo shop is no place to cry, but a lot of shit just came pouring out of my mouth. This doesn't normally happen....I'm not a "share-er" unless I feel super close and/or comfortable. I'm especially not a share-er with a new friend. It's odd, to me, this making of new friends. It's almost like I don't remember how, like I've been in the same pattern for so long that I've forgotten the polite getting-to-know-you conversation topics.

As I was pouring out my crap day, my anger and disappointment and other unsorted and unidentified emotions, I blurted out, I just really hate my life. Which is true, in a sense, because of the last year of turmoil. But as I was walking on a suddenly cool Southern morning, amongst the broken glass from past car wrecks, a solitary truck door handle, overgrown weeds and soft-looking morning glories, I realized there are some beautiful moments, even in the wreckage.

So fuck you. I'll drink my strong coffee and eat my banana and just move forward. I won't crack from work stress and being micromanaged. I'll blare Jacked on Green Beers and I'll forget all about you, and her, and everyone else. So fuck you. You deserve it.

Voodoo Pincushion available on Etsy.