The Antonym

The Antonym

Screaming so loud the sound cannot be muffled by my feather pillows. Cursing at God endlessly for taking the one thing in this world that I ever wanted. Asking my stoic white ceiling what the point is anymore. Mascara stinging my cried-out eyes, choices I didn’t get to make burning my heart until I am sure I am having a heartache. Me, on my knees, in my bathroom, puking until I can’t feel anything anymore…but there is never a time when I don’t feel anything anymore.

And then you text me oh-so-casually (again,) “I just did laundry and realized I still have your teal blanket. Do you want it back?”

I have a blanket? I have a blanket that’s teal? I left it at your house? When was I even at your house?

My mind isn’t where yours is. I’m not doing wash. I’m barely able to brush my teeth at night. I don’t sleep, and when I do I have terrible nightmares of a child that will never be mine. In two days a scalpel will go into me and my life will change forever. A surgery you swore you would be by my side for. Anything I need.

Keep the fucking blanket.

<3 M.

<3 M.

<3 M.

The Monster (Pt II)

The Monster (Pt II)

The Stolen Property

The Stolen Property