her parents got divorced yesterday—she keeps the bits of wisdom and clichés in her closet so as not to clutter the house (eg., i’m sorry. you’re so strong. this is a good thing, really. fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce or separation). i’ve cried from jealousy five times, not including right now, and carry dollar tree make-up wipes and mascara in my purse for such occasions—(the ones requiring an “i’m a rock for my best friend and not a bitch” mentality that cause me to hug her, tightly, and step away so her aunt can hug her even tighter). i wish the aunt would hug me, too--maybe look me in the eyes and say, “oh honey, you’re broken.” i wish mom would call to say, “i’m sorry, dad and i aren’t gonna make it” (they will, they never argue) instead of, “we’re proud of x, but what about y?” to which i’ve replied, “you need x to find y, i think. but what do i know, i’m no mathematician, i’m still in college after all.” i do not want to be reminded that i’m a smartass because i already i know what i am and i wish someone would tell us something that we both don’t know for once. i wish someone would put me in an omelet, turn up the heat—i’d die smiling. i went to the park and screamed, “someone hold me, dangit!” and the old man said, “how much, honey?” so what is left, then, if a divorce is not the option? i have wishes, men, and screams. the self-pity god said i don’t need anything else.
Image via Saad Chaudhry/unsplash.com
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