honestly

i am mad, at everyone i know, for all those times when they are right about every bloody little thing, especially the things I don't want them to be right about, and for the tiny meeny few times when they are so incredibly insanely wrong, and for leaving it up to me to figure out which is which, and for refusing to do this living thing for me, but instead just sitting on the sideline commenting on the various levels of disaster I bring upon myself, and I am so mad at people, for never never never letting me a bad mother, an unloving mother, a frustrated mother, a hateful mother to my kids, not even in my dreams, not even in the dark, not even when the lights are off and the world is sleeping, and the night is gentle, and the moon knows it all, and i'm mad at everyone i know, for walking out on me when i needed them most, for being all over me when i needed space, and for never ever letting me keep the illusion that they can, that they will, that they should carry me, always pushing that shit right in my face just when i need that air castle most, no, baby you are on your own, we can't do this for you, you gotta do it yourself, and i am mad at them for making it look like their life is so much better than mine, or worse making it look as if my life is so much better than theirs, and for judging me all the time, and for not judging me at all, making me feel like a judgmental bitch from hell for judging them (ALL THE TIME), and for not always knowing what i need before i do, hell I am mad at them for not being a compilation of god and my mother and my therapist (but clearly better, much better versions of all of those, because the originals have clearly failed me at times and if my radar is anything to go by, they will fail, most certainly, fail me again, and i'm mad at all those blogs/magazines/books i've been reading for years, with their pretty covers that promise promise if only i order and pay and read and follow all their amazingly simple (BUT FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO FOLLOW) advice, then i will magically (there is the wand, it's included, stuck to the back-cover where the empty plastic CD holder should be, tacked on with a bit of my daughter's old chewing-gum) turn into this amazingly better version of myself, and for years, years, years I believed them, and tried so hard, and failed failed failed every single FUCKING time, until I realised, just very very recently (an ant's fart away in fact) that it's all crap, that these standards are IMPOSSIBLE to meet, that nobody meets them, except accidentally for a few minutes (and yes, that has happened to me at times, and it will probably, if my radar can be trusted, it will happen again, maybe tomorrow...), and the rest of the time, it's just down in the trenches, covered in mud, and getting by, and trying not to yell (too much) and not to hit (too hard), and being sorry, sorry, sorry, and crying bitter tears over your kids' sleeping cheeks, and oh man, I am mad at all mothers, for not saying how hard this would be, for not saying how hard it is ('my kids are the best thing that ever happened to me' DUH, AS WELL AS THE WORST!!!!! 'if it weren't for them, I don't know whether I would have made it' AND if it weren't for them she wouldn't have been up shit creek in the first place....), for not saying how they hate hate hate at times, and that this is ok, because there is no other way, no other way to be a mother, not in this world there isn't, and i am mad at anybody who would pretend otherwise, i am mad at all people, my people, because i been hurting myself with this shit for years, and how come nobody nobody ever ever ever told me. to stop.