Decoy Anger

I feel emptied, and not in the clean kind of a way.  I feel emptied like a pre-prohibition housewife, when rent is due, and her breadwinner has drank all their bread.  She knows they are going to get kicked out of their flat and the children are screaming, so she just does laundry.  I feel wrung dry, twisted and turned, roughly scraped and pulled, as if someone else is trying to take out their aggression on me, and then I remember the Buddha, and I want to wring him out like the laundry for reminding me that it's always, only me.  I am the wet towel, housewife, and the chore.  A wet towel, who sometimes picks fights because of my own insecurities.  I feel like you don't love me, and I'd like to fight about it.  I feel insecure, so I would like to speak with you about which house chores you don't do, and about which ones you don't do good enough.  Decoy anger is all the rage at Nordstroms this holiday season.
 

Aftermath of a fight/the drama of my thoughts

I hope you are happy alone.

Feelings swept under the rug as my words flow out of my mouth wrap around your ears and are met with silence.

I hope you are happy alone

On your phone and computer while I make dinner, do the dishes, and clean up; singing songs to myself, dancing by myself.

I hope you are happy alone.  

No one to respond to you when you are sad and depressed, head on my lap, my hand in your hair.  In these moments you need me, yet do not think about those times when I also need you.

I hope you are happy alone.

Mismanaging your finances without care or regard.  Negative bank account time and time again because of inattention, and ignorance.  

I hope you are happy alone. 

No longer kneeling on Himeros’s alter a broken man bringing the baggage of his youth lugging his mother’s attitude towards sex into the present moment, and coming up flaccid. 

I hope you are happy alone. 

As my prayers go unanswered, and my cries for attention are ignored; my eyes and voice asking for a morsel of you, and being denied time and time again.

I hope you are happy alone, as I am no longer happy with you.    

Co-worker

She sits in the corner absorbed in her task.  Her round bottom amply cushioning her body on a chair made of wooden slats that creaked with movement.  Her curly brown falls across her face as her nose wrinkles and rumples, as if aware that it fell, and she responded with nose movements, not willing to set her scissors down to deal with the nuisance.  I feel like I can see through her sometimes.  Out of the goodness of the heart people speak and it's too easy to read the subtext.  I see the battle you face with authenticity and the demons in your head.

She is one of those people who when you meet them first impressions are everything.  I thought she was funny and clever, but as the day turned into days, and the hours turned into a vortex of time that I stopped paying attention to, she began to annoy me.  In the beginning she was hilarious, full of impersonations and voices.  Oh man her New York Dad impressions complete with accent and body movements cracked me up, but her material eventually ran out.  Sometimes when she would repeat stories, or if a new person came to join the group I wondered if she also noticed how little she truly had to say.  No matter the content she seemed to feel the need to talk, all the time.  Silence seemed to scare her, and in the beginning we all participated in her conversations, but after a while I think we all became tired of our own voices, so we ended conversations, or were slow to respond, social niceties died and eventually we ignored her.  She still talked, she would bribe the dog with crackers and treats seemingly just to have a conversation buddy, a warm body that still responded to her.