motherhood: a how to guide by [redacted] by MelonyFelony, literature
Literature
motherhood: a how to guide by [redacted]
It’s not easy, caring for your darling demon spawn. You knew it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows, nothing is, nothing ever is. But you at least thought that your dad was going to be here to help you out a little. Okay, so he wasn’t the greatest parent to you— he never helped with homework or checked the dates on the food in the fridge, didn’t teach you how to ride a bike or fly a kite, or whatever it was dads were supposed to do. What he taught you was how to drink as he drank through his own days instead of stepping out the door and experiencing them. He wasn’t a great role model but he loved you. You know he loved you. And he would’ve loved Malphas too. He would’ve bounced him on his knee, held him in his big arms, made sure he was safe while you were at work. “It’s not fair,” you grouse tiredly, watching Malphas squish his tiny hand in a bowl of pea mash. “I wasn’t allowed to leave him, but he up and died on me the moment we got a better life. What kind of bullshit
“Is it okay if I use the bathroom?” She asks, gnawing at the chapped skin of her lip.
“We’ve been over this,” you sigh, more disheartened than frustrated. “You don’t have to ask me for permission to use the bathroom, Gidge. This is your house too.”
“Right…yeah.” She bobs her head, the crease in her brow betraying uncertainty.
“Do you need help?” You ask, more to reassure her that she can in fact go, rather than actually offering it. You’ll help her with whatever she needs, but you know she doesn’t need help with this. Hasn’t needed it in weeks.
“I could go anywhere,” you murmur, tenderly cupping the back of your neck. “Anywhere but home…”
The tattoo’s faded, somewhat. But it could still carry you to worlds yet unknown. It could carry you until the day it’s gone completely, vanished from your skin like a healed bruise.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before,” she says, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“It’s not your fault everybody around here thinks space aliens are fiction.” You give her a sad smile. Maybe you truly are fictional here. You could be for all you know. It’s not just t
i can’t believe how much time i wasted on people and places who aren’t you
i can’t believe what i’ve forsaken
i want to strangle myself when i think of the treasures i traded for buckets of bran flakes
what did i do to you?
how could i…just took all my knives, buried ‘em in your back and clawed my heart out with my bare hands
i need— i can’t
where is this going to get me, get us, swimming in regret? maybe because i’m not actually
maybe because it’s more like drowning
there is no making up for this
there is no answer for questions i can’t even ask you because god, what
i love you
i just hate the relationship i have with you
walking precariously between the resentment you won’t vocalize
wishing you’d slap me with your hands instead because every passive aggressive word feels more like a stab
cringing with how far you’ve fallen in my eyes, from a formidable force to a walking insult to yourself, to women everywhere
my heart burns for a real conversation with you
instead of the fluff and silicone i spit out just so i can talk to you at all
disgusted by my own dependence on you, in all its forms
tired of these bandaids you keep plastering over bullet holes
disturbed and revolted by th
motherhood: a how to guide by [redacted] by MelonyFelony, literature
Literature
motherhood: a how to guide by [redacted]
It’s not easy, caring for your darling demon spawn. You knew it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows, nothing is, nothing ever is. But you at least thought that your dad was going to be here to help you out a little. Okay, so he wasn’t the greatest parent to you— he never helped with homework or checked the dates on the food in the fridge, didn’t teach you how to ride a bike or fly a kite, or whatever it was dads were supposed to do. What he taught you was how to drink as he drank through his own days instead of stepping out the door and experiencing them. He wasn’t a great role model but he loved you. You know he loved you. And he would’ve loved Malphas too. He would’ve bounced him on his knee, held him in his big arms, made sure he was safe while you were at work. “It’s not fair,” you grouse tiredly, watching Malphas squish his tiny hand in a bowl of pea mash. “I wasn’t allowed to leave him, but he up and died on me the moment we got a better life. What kind of bullshit
“Is it okay if I use the bathroom?” She asks, gnawing at the chapped skin of her lip.
“We’ve been over this,” you sigh, more disheartened than frustrated. “You don’t have to ask me for permission to use the bathroom, Gidge. This is your house too.”
“Right…yeah.” She bobs her head, the crease in her brow betraying uncertainty.
“Do you need help?” You ask, more to reassure her that she can in fact go, rather than actually offering it. You’ll help her with whatever she needs, but you know she doesn’t need help with this. Hasn’t needed it in weeks.
“I could go anywhere,” you murmur, tenderly cupping the back of your neck. “Anywhere but home…”
The tattoo’s faded, somewhat. But it could still carry you to worlds yet unknown. It could carry you until the day it’s gone completely, vanished from your skin like a healed bruise.
“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you before,” she says, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.
“It’s not your fault everybody around here thinks space aliens are fiction.” You give her a sad smile. Maybe you truly are fictional here. You could be for all you know. It’s not just t
i can’t believe how much time i wasted on people and places who aren’t you
i can’t believe what i’ve forsaken
i want to strangle myself when i think of the treasures i traded for buckets of bran flakes
what did i do to you?
how could i…just took all my knives, buried ‘em in your back and clawed my heart out with my bare hands
i need— i can’t
where is this going to get me, get us, swimming in regret? maybe because i’m not actually
maybe because it’s more like drowning
there is no making up for this
there is no answer for questions i can’t even ask you because god, what
i love you
i just hate the relationship i have with you
walking precariously between the resentment you won’t vocalize
wishing you’d slap me with your hands instead because every passive aggressive word feels more like a stab
cringing with how far you’ve fallen in my eyes, from a formidable force to a walking insult to yourself, to women everywhere
my heart burns for a real conversation with you
instead of the fluff and silicone i spit out just so i can talk to you at all
disgusted by my own dependence on you, in all its forms
tired of these bandaids you keep plastering over bullet holes
disturbed and revolted by th
Hi, there! I just wanted to ask if you could please approve the addition request of a piece of artwork from your old account into my group LGBT-of-Faith. Thanks.