Mommy Slurs Goodnight

The bottle of beer was empty, but I kept tipping it, expecting more. “Didn’t they tell me that is the definition of insanity? Repeating the same action with the same result over and over while expecting a different outcome?” I growled and set the bottle down hard. The sound of hope, faith and persistence demanding that life line up with what I want it to be. “The word ‘should’ can go to hell.”

Staring at a blinking cursor; forgotten words ringing in memory. It should mean something to me. It should be my dream fulfilled. It should. I should be happy. I should be shallow. I should be a pleasant piece of plastic smiling like a damned soccer mom Barbie. But instead I am a prowling drunk in a cage still trying to make it all work. I get so tired of the word “should”. It just isn’t.

Blink. Blink. Blink. “No, it isn’t,” I said aloud. My mind began to analyze and extract; systematically detangling right from wrong, good from bad.

I continued the work, determined to find the thread that held me here, the sentimental corpse of a lost reality. It was here. I would find it, cut it, release it, and be done with “should” forever.

Blink. Blink. Blink. I stared at the cursor, waiting out the furious interior battle raging over what is “good”.

“I try,” I argue.

“I am,” the response rips the want from my hands. “F**k you and your goddamn normal.”

I sought control. There were things I appreciated in this world, the contents of my bank account being one of them. “Watch it.” I said to nothing, “You’re treading on sacred ground.” I could handle a personal civil war but this threatened my whole family’s security. Finally, they where I fought so hard for them to be. Albeit absent me, but they needed that money. They needed my a*s sitting in that cubicle day after day. They needed me making coffee and all the other mundane tasks that drove me crazy. It may end up being the only worthwhile thing I’ve ever done.