Notes from my Black
I can’t remember the last time I felt fully attractive. The other day, I was asked if I wanted to take a shower. It had been days. I didn’t want to. I couldn’t justify the effort. The same effort required to look into the mirror and multiply that by whatever the additional square footage is. It’s measurable…
It may not be normal to look at yourself and think terrible things. The last time I caught myself in the mirror, I said aloud how ugly that person was. I cussed at myself and I gasped at the harshness and truth of my words. I’m not a cruel person. I literally never look at other people and think things like that. These most intimate moments of complete loathing are by reservation only. I seem to be the only one who can bring such ugly from the swamp.
I realize in fleeting moments of hard sunsets lights when the rays make linger journeys and I feel the light energy bounce and refract in my eyes that maybe this is as good as I get. I mean, it’s all about the eyes right? Thank god no one can see the rest… it’s all about the eyes sugar… isn’t that what we are taught? I’m glad the rest doesn’t matter in that moment because, wow, what a disappointment that would be.
I want to thank my daughter for leaving open candy in the house. It has allowed me to reaffirm my inability to stay on a diet. I’m glad I never did any addictive sort of drugs. Candy is bad enough to make me tumble into my fat jeans and follow the serving with at least a week of avoidant eye contact behavior. Like I needed just one more reason to loathe that reflection. Lack of self-control… now that is just as pathetic and deflating.
But at least it’s about the eyes. Ignore the rest will you? I’m totally flirt-able. Just don’t look down. It’s been too long. It appears there is a point where a flirt is just wrong. Well, at least with me it seems to be the case. I'd like to feel attractive, it just isn’t in the cards for me. Nobody actually wants to hop on this shit show, and who could blame them