Perhaps not-so-pathetic Wishes

I wish I could just become something else so I didn’t have to  sit so idly pretending. I need to find a job but they always look for experience and “qualification” but I have none of that and my parents urge me so; there’s bills to pay and what is required of me is a pathetic 200. My anxiety kills me: the stinging feeling of dread ringing in every breath; the complete incompetence of movement that stiffens my neck and the sides of my temples making it impossible to remember what I was going to think next again and again in seconds and seconds; suffocating, paving the way for sorrow and self-loathing. I’m numbers to them not a person like their commercials and site home page sell-themselves say. I just want to disappear, I want to become a tree; trees suffer but they know their place. Father always so demanding and giving the illusion that he’s right. Sister is good, she is not exactly what he wants her to be because he is stifling, but she is bright and will make him proud by proving him wrong while I stay a sheep and he will loathe me for it too. He was raised by a horrible father and in dense ignorance; he should not have had me, I’d rather be an orphan; I rather wonder if I was loved as I already do but at least free and not knowing what will be instead of certainty of justified jabs at my heart. I wish I was an ant; they know their purpose. Mother had a horrible mother–never there. Mother did not learn to mother, she does not understand sympathy, she’d die for us, but she only understands bases and extremes. She is the moon stuck in waning, the sea never-flowing. Mother was a child and her mother loved some who more than her babies. mother was cast out into the street a child but great-grandmother Francesca took her in. Francesca was rough and hid her love well. Mom never properly learned to feel, she’s partially hollow. Mother could have had children on her own but they would have had many disagreements with her children, but instead he married her and mother is like a wall. I wish a I was water, it changes so easily. I wish I liked women, I don’t want to go to hell but I don’t want to be hated by everyone like the bible says I will be if I am faithful. Either way I lose. I used to desperately need an embrace but then my friend said she was fine and she didn’t have anyone so I heard and I saw. I want him beautiful with eyes large and ridiculous, like a child’s, eyebrows full and close to the eyes, honest and with a scar of past sorrow; learned hearts. smile like a sly smirk, cunning and cocky, but then suddenly sweet and sincere. I’ll be afraid of his complements, he’ll have a hum when he whispers better ideas than the crowd that I’m supposed to like. He’ll complement the stars and I will probably hide my God from him until I am punished for having him as another god before Him. I wish I was many songs, loved by all. But I can’t even muster enough damed strength for a godammed interview. who am I do even dream. Normal people, it seems, with mentality of some pushiness and blind faith worsened by what they remember of their experiences rather than by their experiences to push themselves. No, some are. Some are generals that recite that not very good is a general that thirsts for wars. She was rough and tough and avoided comfort but she was good and right and not frightening. I wish she was my guardian.

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