If I'm shitty, that's just because I'm shitty. You're allowed to be mad at me, but you need to know that whatever I do, it's not your fault.
HHollyhock
I know. I mean, I know, but I don't always know, you know? Like, sometimes I have this tiny voice in the back of my head that goes, like, "Hey, everyone hates you! And they're not wrong to feel that way!"
I imagine my great-great-great granddaughter in the future talking to her class about me. She's poised and funny, and tells people about me and how everything worked out in the end. And when I think about that, I think about how everything's going to work out. Because how else could she tell people?
How did I not see it? All this time, I thought you were a terrible parent. And you were. But I blew it even worse. It turns out being a parent is... impossible. So I guess I can't be that mad at you.
BBeatrice
Mad at me!? No, Henrietta, this is the right thing. You'll see.
No!! All this "I don't know where I am who my son stuff is" is officially not cute anymore! You ruined the one good thing I had! The one thing I didn't ruin myself! But of course I did! Because I thought it was a good idea to give you one more chance!
You know what your problem is? You hold everyone to an impossible standard, including yourself. It's super helpful for writing hot-take shakedowns, and clickbait take-downs, but totally toxic for your personal life and internalized sense of self-worth, girl.
Over these last two nights, you’ve drawn an outline of a person. A person who doesn’t think about others, a person who puts his own needs first. And over and over, other people get hurt, not necessarily because he means to hurt them, but because he just doesn’t care. This person I’m describing, is it a different person, or is it you?
The weak breeze whispers nothing, the water screams sublime. His feet shift teeter-totter. Deep breath, stand back, it's time. Toes untouch the overpass, soon he's water bound. Eyes locked shut but peek to see the view from halfway down. [the white door draws closer.] I'm not done. Hold on, I'm not done. I'm not done. A little wind, a summer sun. A river rich and regal. A flood of fond endorphins brings a calm that knows no equal. You're flying now. You see things much more clear than from the ground. It's all okay, it would be, were you not now halfway down. Thrash to break from gravity, what now could slow the drop? All I'd give for toes to touch the safety back at top. [the white door continues to draw closer.'] I changed my mind. I change my mind, I don't wanna-
But this is it, the deed is done, silence drowns the sound. Before I leaped I should have seen the view from halfway down! [the white door draws closer and closer to Secretariat, sending him into a state of panic as he struggles to finish his poem.] No! I really should have thought about the view from halfway down!
Besides, I'm really trying to focus on myself right now. One day in therapy, I just blurted out: "Is my problem with women, any movie directed by Christopher Nolan? Because yes, women are involved, but it's never really about the women. It's about me.
It occured to me: Are my self destructive patterns and unexamined cycles of co-dependency the popular Jim Carrey character 'The Mask'? Because 'Somebody stop me!'.
