i’m sure i’m doing too much like entirely impossible things before breakfast i don’t even know why i am paying apple 2.99 a month i don’t understand the cloud my children look at me with major expectations like i am the lord i feel like the gaze of the world is more about look at her go how does she do it and less about anything else and i even try to shine still i don’t think we were supposed to be like this so busy brains will explode my heart is not full but chockablock i feel like the toothpaste tube that is being rolled up flattened out used up spit rinse run i feel like i look like a less vivid version of me like weak tea or pink instead of fuchsia i don’t even know how i hold everything in my mind like it feels like i am a teapot my spout is dangerous hot spilling everywhere why is all the food all the money and why do i have to remember everything why do i have to make up for shortcomings all the comings and goings and the men stand on corners and whistle at women because they’ve got time they’re just standing there do they even read the paper what if i got into a small box and hid from the world i don’t have a box that i would fit in but surely i can find one i can do anything i can do all the things am i a witch or just a mother do i make magic look at people see me run around the earth i am exhausting to watch fly squint your eyes this is a serious question i mouth at myself in a dirty mirror when do i care for myself majestically when do i say enough enough like a whisper like when a baby is so tired they fight sleep but you love them with such exquisite care that they eventually do
-ATS
How are you doing? Why don’t you write a mourning page like this too? Just start the same way I did: i’m sure i’m doing too much like entirely impossible things before breakfast… Go somewhere with it. Like a prompt. ilysm xo