My Last Fuck

The wind is howling and I think I saw snowflakes. I wish I could go back to sleep, but the siren song of coffee was too strong. Just like the wind. If I was a bad witch I would be scared right around now. But as it stands I am just awake and hoping that these are the winds of change a blowin”. Things aren’t bad, but they could be better.

I feel like something good is coming. Bring it.

Once up a time in the land of Facebook some idiot employee had the lovely idea to generate Facebook memories.

What a lovely way to start my day, scrolling through my own stupidity and seeing pictures of that cat that got eaten by an owl. I am so sorry Lila Moo Spagooter, but you loved being outside, I couldn’t bear keeping you in.

Lost 2 cats to that owl that year, then I moved.

Seeing how happy I was in Milton, old videos of me and Panda having belly laughs in the change room at work…those things I like.

I love watching myself evolve year after year especially after my emancipation from the idea that I could only find my identity through the reflection of whatever man I was with.

I see Nina Nine Times and other pets and people I have loved and still do.

Cute outfits that I regret donating when I had to downsize.

But there is an ugly side to that coin.

Hindsight is not only 20/20, it’s a fucking bitch.

I was always pretending I was so happy about the overwhelming amount of busy bullshit work I was constantly doing at the farm. I swear to see pictures of me from back then, I look ten years older than I do now. Tired from getting ground down and keeping up appearances. Living a lie.

Now, I am unapologetically me. Except when I fuck everything up, then I apologize and I mean it.

I am sorry things got so fucked up.

I wear my happiness like well applied make up, I swear.

The memories of summer months are a little easier to swallow I am a sunshine fueled water baby so my happiness is prevalent and it shows. But there are a few exceptions.

Twice in 2 years the Poet surfaced briefly, during Gemini season.

I am beyond disgusted with my fangirlyness. Just ew.

I truly feel like some days I am watching the story of a stranger who used my hands to type this drivel about the ultimate ghost.

Like a horror movie where the white girl does the dumbest shit, and probably dies at the end, badly, and the whole time you’re thinking “Nah, sis, just no. Do not go into that haunted fucking house.”

She did die. I let her.

Whatever version of me that was, nope nuh uh. I do not acknowledge her stupidity and blindness. Thankfully it was fleeting, but I got so caught up in his web of lies. Apex predator I suppose, with a devil’s grin and a poet’s mouth. Too bad they were just masking a master fuckboy in disguise.

I survived, and now i nothing him. No love, no hate, just nothing.

Which brings me to the present. What revelations am I going to have after this year has passed? What kind of memories am I leaving for myself on my pilgrimage to this island of misfit toys, fuck boys, epic liars and time wasters?

What truths are going to reveal themselves and cause me to chuckle at the girl who was once again a puddle on the floor a week ago? I would like to state for the record, as I slid down the locker and landed on my ass, unable to hold myself up or the tears in I was instantaneously surrounded by a bunch of sweet strippers trying to help, and lord bless ‘em, they helped.

I did pull myself together in record time.

Maybe that is the lesson, I will always be the girl who falls fast, but I am learning to bounce back faster.

I’m after being let down more than I am used to on this trip. And that was a fucking lot.

These boys with honey on their lips and sparks in their eyes coming at me like moths to a flame, just to wander off and never to be heard from again.

For the record if you don’t talk to me for a few days after being all I excited about the fact that I exist and am paying attention to you…I already know where this is going. Nowhere.

Your loss really, I give spectacular attention.

I’m starting to find it comical, after all I am the girl who introduced herself to the Nope’s friends as the flavour of the month, and I was not even close to being wrong. A lunar month to the day.

“We need some stability around here.” The Color Purple

Nah, I’m fine, fuckboy fuckery has turned into a hobby, like a bad reality tv show I watch from a distance. This trip has become a social experiment conducted from behind these really high walls I had to build to be here.

Wonder how long this one is gonna last?

I don’t actually give a fuck anymore, not that I ever did, that isn’t why I am here.

My last fuck has blown away with the wind.