Bio Blank Thoughts 

October 23. 2017

Do you remember that one time…

I was maybe 14.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and thought to myself that maybe I could be pretty naturally.

I came out of the washroom…

And said to you,

As you were doing dishes…

“I think I actually look pretty without make-up”

And you said, “Well, a little is nice”.

October 8. 2017

I wonder, when you sent the text message: “Ok is there something you wanna tell me…you just randomly stopped texting me…that’s really weird and rude unless you have a reason. Forgive me for saying that but I am sure you get my point…whatever you want…Happy Thanksgiving”. Were you trying to pick a fight with anyone, and chose me? I just wonder, if I lived in your mind, what would it be like? Would I wander confused in life and have my glasses be two cylinders for my eyes, clear on the outside but coated with tar on the inside? I wonder, would I look to blame everyone around me for my unhappiness? What is it like to live under the anger of hell? Consuming all that is around you, making everything you see in your path a deep fiery red. Would I think that a text message relationship is the repair of the relationship I once had with my daughter that I destroyed? Would I believe that my daughter owes me something? Would I believe that the one unanswered text by her wasn’t a reality, but instead the millions of other texts that went unanswered that I made up? Would I believe that she should want a relationship with me and that she is under the obligation to respond to my needs despite me never have met hers. Would I?

If I would.

I wouldn’t ask these questions.

Because I would.

October 7. 2017

Just so you know, sending a text once a month doesn’t make you a mom. It doesn’t mean we have a relationship. It doesn’t mean I owe you anything.

It means we are civil.

September 19. 2017

He says, “We should do lunch”.

She responds thinking sure, why not. She repsonds with an “Ok, what about this weekend?”

He responds back, “Weekdays are better. Too many errands on the weekends.”

She reads the response. Scuffs.

She thinks to herself how easy it was for her biological father to de-prioritze her over a text message.

Probably best.

Who knows how lunch would have gone.

She thinks…




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