I'm beginning to not see the point anymore. The point of anything. Why am I so unlucky?
I wrote to a friend recently about how I have tried to connect with people and how even in reaching out for a friend, I get rejected. I mean these aren't random strangers, but people I've met along the way. People I just wanted to get to know in a casual group situation, to be invited to their group maybe. I have no lesbian friends, so I thought maybe I could join the group of the one girl on my Facebook I met years ago, and just join her friends for dinner or something. Instead I got a speech about things come when you least expect them. And that I should focus on myself more and do community service. Thanks but I didn't ask for your opinion on how you think I should improve myself and live my life. She literally didn't even answer the question- Do you have a group of girls you hang out with as friends? That's all I wanted to know. I know she does. She's very outgoing and an activist and knows everyone. But, whatever.
My friend sympathized. She did. She knows the amount of effort I have put in and tried to connect with people. She doesn't understand why it has been the way it's been, for me. She poured out encouraging words and wonderful things about me, I don't need to brag here. "You are lovable," she said. It makes me cry even now. I think I know that. I know there are people I see a few times a year that love me so incredibly much. But it's not enough. Sometimes I think I'm expecting too much. But I'm really not. I'm not expecting a perfect relationship. But I'm expecting to be chosen by someone. To be picked out of the billions of other people in the world, to spend their life with me and only me. I'm not looking for a sister wives situation. I don't think that's too much to ask. I don't think that's unrealistic because there are so many people out there that are living it. At least 99% of my friends; 98% of everyone I would even call an acquaintance, or maybe a "friend" in the broadest sense of the word, are in a relationship. So what is wrong with me? I think I'm just unlucky. Maybe I'm in the wrong place. But thinking I might meet someone or connect with someone like I thought I might of on my vacation in Canada, or thinking that I might meet a girl in San Francisco, the gayest city in world... is just a pipe dream. It seems completely pointless to even hope anymore. It doesn't get me anywhere. It all feels so... pointless. I've done this before. I've prayed. I've envisioned who I want. I've written about her. I've tried to meet someone. I've gone in with no expectations and I've gone in with the mindset, I will be successful. Nothing works. I'm at a loss now. I think I'm at a complete loss now. I want to be at the bottom so I can work my way back up, but every "cliché" phrase out there, just has not worked for me in the least bit, so it doesn't even matter if this is my rock bottom, because it's not going to get any better. So no more "love will come when you least expect it." No more "if at first you don't succeed, try try again." No more, "if you're not open to love, then love can't find you." I don't know about that last one, maybe I misquoted it. But you get my point. None of those have ever worked on me. "When God closes a door, he opens a window." Nope. When he closes a door, he double bolts it and puts bars on the outside so there's no way you're getting out. I've done every possible thing and lived every possible way. I've lived my life just doing what I love, not worrying about it. I've been positive, not as much on here, but why do I need to be positive on my own blog that I use to help process and get out my feelings? Maybe somebody else in this world reads this and really gets it. It's them, too. But yeah, none of it matters anymore, because nothing changes. I was looking for places to maybe hang out in San Francisco, after I see my bestie and the kids that love me so much in Sacramento. Places where lesbians hang, but I think that's the whole city, they don't really have their own places anymore. But I probably won't even go to any of them. I'm not going out of my way, because nothing is going to come of it. Why would it? If nothing's happened in nearly 10 years why would anything happen now? This is it. This is my life. I'm going to live in this house near the lake in Dallas, with my cat, for the rest of my life. This is all I get. I don't get any more friends. I certainly don't get any more single friends. I don't get any more connections with people. I don't get any more dates. I don't get any more loves. I just have to accept that and be ok with it. I'm just not one of those people that get to have a life that she feels is what's "the norm." Maybe normal is boring. But normal doesn't mean perfect. It doesn't mean a man and a woman and a son and daughter a dog. But it does mean a family. It does mean someone that you get to love and be loved by every single day, even when you do not like them or what they did. It does mean kids, to me. I'm not going to define everyone else's normal and everyone else's definition of family. I can only define mine. I already can't have a child in the sense of them being half me and half my partner's. That's already out the window. I'm not going to pretend I'm not upset about that, but that's biology, that's just the way it is. The closest thing would be a brother's donation. A twin brother even more so, but I don't know that people really do that. That's just me being logical. All that is moot anyway, so moving on.
What do you do when everything else fails? Even though everything always amounted to nothing or I failed or people rejected me or whatever the case, I would always pick myself back up, dust myself off and whether it be a couple weeks or a couple months or more, later, I would get out and try something again. But now I can't even fathom that. Instead of indulging myself like I would in the past, thinking about what "might" happen when I go to this group, or this city, or message this person; the thought that "maybe I will meet someone" here or there, is completely shut down within the first few seconds. I'm surprised I even wasted my time looking for places to hang out while I'm in San Francisco. I can't believe I even indulged the thought of looking for a meet up group event or looking online to see if I'd connect with any one that lives in that area. I thought if I'd already be there, why not meet the people. I've kind of been thinking about what it would be like to live outside the city, since it's way too expensive in it. I'd be so much closer to my boys and I'd love to be in their life more regularly, face to face that is. I'm in their life everyday through the things I've given them and clothes they wear everyday from me, and the conversations they have about me with their Mom (my best friend). But that idea's been shot down before I even research it. I'm not risking my cat's life on a dream. The move alone will kill her. The fact she wouldn't be allowed to roam around outside there, would depress her to no end. She's more important than the less than 1percent chance I'd meet someone there. You can say I use her as an excuse not to try, but I wouldn't move there unless I already had someone there waiting for me. I would figure out the logistics of moving a cat across the country who is scared in a 2 minute car ride, if I already had a girl I was crazy about who was like "please come move to Cali for me." I would even get my own place. But yeah, not gonna happen. So back to my question. What do you do when everything else fails? I have no idea. I can tell you what you don't do. You don't go on Instagram looking at that crush you had for so long who suddenly always had a girl by her side, yet she never said she was gay. Well, she is now. Officially. I knew it. She even kind of looked like me, which only made it hurt more. Not that she knows I exist. Well I did write her a letter a couple summers ago, but most likely she never read it. It was stupid anyway. Things like that don't happen to me. There's no way I would've ever gotten her, even if we had met. I don't get to be happy. I don't get to be in love. I don't get to ever be kissed again. I don't ever get to be held again. I don't get anything. I get the scraps left by people when they have a minute to spare to give me face to face time with them. The ones their kids and spouse haven't already hoarded for themselves. As well they should. I would kill for a spouse and kids to give all my time to. My friends wouldn't feel left out, because they all already have that, so they don't really need me. They sure as heck don't need me now. So that's it. There's no point. There's no answer. There's no "things will change, give it time." If 10 years isn't enough time, then I don't want to know what is. There probably is somebody out there for everybody. But there's not someone out there for me. I don't get anyone. I figured only murderers and rapists and child molesters would fall in the category of "you don't get anyone, sorry, not sorry." But for some weird reason, I get put in that category too. Even though I'm the complete opposite in all 3 of those ways, like night and day opposite.
And now I shall leave you with a story from Michael, of The Office. You know which Michael I'm talking about:
Michael: I read this story about a woman who slipped on some black ice, and she hit her head and went into a coma forever. And then every day, her husband went and visited her in the hospital until she died.
Pam: that's a sad story
Michael: (voice breaking) yeah, well, at least he was married.
Pam: Oh, ok, Michael, slow down. Everything's gonna be okay.
Michael: no, it's not. It's not. Oh man, I can tell you confidently that it is not gonna be okay.
Oh Michael, I feel your pain. At least you were on a hit TV show so you were bound to get Holly (the one and only girl weird enough to like you) back at some point. And you did. And you got married and had 2 kids. Sigh... where's my weird girl?? I need someone by my bedside if I'm ever in a coma, or vice versa. (insert silly face emoticon here)
(insert awkward pity laugh here) It's ok...go ahead...I get it. ;o)
Sunday, July 31, 2016
Tuesday, July 5, 2016
calling this a "love letter" is a bit of a stretch
This is the most jarringly honest and deeply personal thing I've probably ever written and put out there on the blogosphere.
I've written love letters to whoever I marry, since I was 16 years old. This one is...uhh...different.
Letter to my love continued…
You really suck, ya know it?? You better have a good
explanation as to why you aren’t here with me now. Why is it July 5, 2016 and
you still aren’t fucking here??!!! Where the fuck were you at my little sister’s
wedding over a year ago?? I told you to be there with me! And I wrote that
whole Niagara falls story about meeting you in May of last year right before I left,
and you didn’t fucking meet me there?? So where were you june 6, 2015 and where
were you in May 12-15, 2015?? You better have a good excuse! Because I am super
pissed that you weren’t there. I’ve been waiting for you forever. Where the
fuck are you? Why are you doing this to me? If you are out there dating some
girl, break up with her so that we can meet! For the love of God, please!!! You
have no idea how much I am hurting. How much I am dying inside. I can’t take it
much longer. What is wrong with me that no one will love me? What’s wrong with
me that no one will take the time to get to know me? Why no one connects with
me?? Why am I so unlovable?? Why? I’m smart. I help babies. I help moms
struggling with their babies. I am not ugly. I have a kind heart. I love
animals and would never harm them. I love my friends and would do anything for
my best friend and her 3 boys and 1 girl on the way. I would give
them my freaking kidney if they needed it! I love them so much. Why can’t I have
love too? Why can’t I have physical love that only a girl that loves girls too,
can give me? Why do I have to be alone so much of the time? My life is wasting
away. I just turned 35. Everything is crashing down. I probably will never have
my own kid, how can I? My eggs will have turned bad or have left the building. I
am so sick of being alone. Where are you? I love you so much. I will take care
of you and love you and be there for you in sickness and health, but I can’t BE
there for you, if you aren’t HERE with me. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t
exist. I can’t be with someone won’t appear. God. I’m so mad you aren’t here
yet. Don’t you know how much I would love you? You will never have to be alone.
You will never have to be unloved. You will never have to go to bed without my
arms to hold you and my lips to kiss you goodnight. You won’t have to do any of
it without me. I will always be there for you. I will never leave you. If you
don’t leave me. But you have to show up first.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Dressing for You
I watched this documentary produced by Lena Dunham and Jenni Konner called Suited. It was about these 2 friends that were creating suits for the LBGTQ community. I watched it because it was produced by Lena, who I love and secretly wish I could hang out with and talk about writing, and she'd help me get my book published.... ya know, stuff like that. I had never ever considered wearing a suit before. Almost all of the people in the documentary were trans men, so people that were born female and who were either transitioning to male or just identified more as one. There's a whole spectrum now, ya know. It's not all cut and dry. And I'm a firm believer of being who you want to be and not letting anyone tell you you can't be you.
I certainly didn't wear dresses all the time or anything, growing up. I wore them on appropriate occasions like church or the prom, or a choir or band concert. It's funny looking back because it was just what you did. You were a girl, you wore a dress. I don't mean all the time, but certainly there were no girls wearing the boys suits that they wore for a band or choir concert. It wasn't even an option. You wore the ugly black dress with the rest of us. That's just how it was. I accepted a lot of things based on what I was told and how I was taught to act, and of course what my peers were doing. In my free time I of course wore shorts. I mean you can't climb the tree next to your house and get onto the roof, in a skirt, I mean come on. I was also always barefoot, but that doesn't have a gender aligned with it. I remember getting a few long "prairie" skirts, or what I called "hippie" skirts. But honestly, I only wore them in the summer because it was actually cooler having that air flow up your skirt, than it was to be wearing more confining shorts. For me, it was either about comfort or obligation. Those were my 2 choices. I would never willingly wear a skirt in the winter because that would require hose or tights. Now that I'm an adult I choose to almost never wear a dress, unless it's summer and I'm going to a musical or on Mother's Day I've been known to wear a dress a time or 2 (but again it is summer) and that's for obvious reasons (to please my Mom). I also never wear jewelry anymore. Something I outgrew and never see a need for anymore. Not that I'm completely against it. I'd wear a ring if given to me by a special someone. I think it's awesome that people find their style and get to dress how they want. I would prefer to not wear clothes, like ever, so I don't fit into any category. Except the nudist colony category, I guess. But I found that that is just a bunch of old people, so I don't really want to be in that category either. I pretty much live in nowhere land, and I'm ok with that, most of the time. I always think about how I could never have a job where I had to work in an office or school, because they have to dress at least somewhat professional, and I wouldn't even know where to start. I would hate every second of it. I work where I can wear scrubs and in the summer, the t-shirts with our organization on it, with capris. Thank God for that. Plus I'm outside in and out of the heat all day driving around, so it's not like I could survive in some kind of a suit. It would literally kill me. The heat, I mean.
In the few cases where I do go out and be with people, I wear shorts or jeans, with a t-shirt that displays something from one of my favorite shows, or something funny or cute, or maybe has cats on it. And I wear converse or flip flops. I'm extremely low key and I like it that way. I don't really feel the need to be "out there" displaying who I am in what I wear. I leave that for my home. If you've ever been to my house you know that it is exploding with color and all types of creativeness. Whether I made it, bought it, collaged it, it's all my personality, it's all things I love. It's all ME. I feel like most people they go out and they show who they are, in how they dress. You can tell so much about that person, from how they dress. They take pride in that. And with me, I tell it with the way I decorate my insides, both the literal inside of my house and the inside of my being...in the bearing of my soul through the words that I write. Those 2 things are my "style." They are me showing the world who I am. That's why I used to try to get new friends that I made, to come over to my house, like all the time. I wanted to truly show them who I am. They weren't going to get it just from what I wore or what I talked about, necessarily. I wanted to show them the real me. I stop trying now, because no one ever has the time to come over, but one day, maybe I'll have someone who I can take on a tour of ME, through what is spilling all over my walls. I would truly love to do that. We all want to be seen for who we really are, and what makes us feel cool or special or beautiful.
By the end of the documentary I actually thought about how I wouldn't be against trying on a suit, that fit me right. I couldn't do a tie unless it was loose around my neck, in a sort of a "meant to be that way." I hate things around my neck, like scarves, so I seriously doubt I'd like a tie strangling me. But I might look kinda cool in a nice, tailored to me, suit. I'll probably never know because they are some dang expensive and I don't want one that bad. But if someone ever made me one, I'd wear it. It would probably feel nice to look good. I'm assuming. I can't remember the last time I did. For someone who has been on this Earth for going on 35 years, I sure do find clothing to be absolutely foreign to me. I never figured out what I look good in, or what I liked. I'd probably be a perfect candidate for one of those shows where they "fix" people's clothing styles. But I would never allow cameras to follow me like that. I do wish that when I was younger and super skinny, I wore clothes that I could've totally pulled off. Like if skinny jeans were a thing back then, I would've totally rocked them. At a time when I could've worn anything, I was wearing baggy overalls. I mean they were kind of in style, it was the late 90s, but I continued them into college... I'm not sure they were really in style anymore. But I also wouldn't have been wearing tight slutty clothes anyway. I was a good little Christian girl, there's no way that would've happened. But I still could've pulled off so much more than I did. Oh well. You can't go back. I'm not a person that lives with regrets. Everything happens for a reason. Not a reason that always makes sense to you, or a reason that you actually find out what that reason is, but a reason, no less.
I think you can express yourself in a lot of different ways, and clothing is just one of them. If that's not you, do it with food, or words or crafts or music or art or a hundred different other things. You do you. I do me. And in the end, one day, no one will care what you're wearing, because no one's going to force them into wearing what you're wearing, so why does it even matter? I'd love to be alive when we finally get to that place together. That will be a great day.
I certainly didn't wear dresses all the time or anything, growing up. I wore them on appropriate occasions like church or the prom, or a choir or band concert. It's funny looking back because it was just what you did. You were a girl, you wore a dress. I don't mean all the time, but certainly there were no girls wearing the boys suits that they wore for a band or choir concert. It wasn't even an option. You wore the ugly black dress with the rest of us. That's just how it was. I accepted a lot of things based on what I was told and how I was taught to act, and of course what my peers were doing. In my free time I of course wore shorts. I mean you can't climb the tree next to your house and get onto the roof, in a skirt, I mean come on. I was also always barefoot, but that doesn't have a gender aligned with it. I remember getting a few long "prairie" skirts, or what I called "hippie" skirts. But honestly, I only wore them in the summer because it was actually cooler having that air flow up your skirt, than it was to be wearing more confining shorts. For me, it was either about comfort or obligation. Those were my 2 choices. I would never willingly wear a skirt in the winter because that would require hose or tights. Now that I'm an adult I choose to almost never wear a dress, unless it's summer and I'm going to a musical or on Mother's Day I've been known to wear a dress a time or 2 (but again it is summer) and that's for obvious reasons (to please my Mom). I also never wear jewelry anymore. Something I outgrew and never see a need for anymore. Not that I'm completely against it. I'd wear a ring if given to me by a special someone. I think it's awesome that people find their style and get to dress how they want. I would prefer to not wear clothes, like ever, so I don't fit into any category. Except the nudist colony category, I guess. But I found that that is just a bunch of old people, so I don't really want to be in that category either. I pretty much live in nowhere land, and I'm ok with that, most of the time. I always think about how I could never have a job where I had to work in an office or school, because they have to dress at least somewhat professional, and I wouldn't even know where to start. I would hate every second of it. I work where I can wear scrubs and in the summer, the t-shirts with our organization on it, with capris. Thank God for that. Plus I'm outside in and out of the heat all day driving around, so it's not like I could survive in some kind of a suit. It would literally kill me. The heat, I mean.
In the few cases where I do go out and be with people, I wear shorts or jeans, with a t-shirt that displays something from one of my favorite shows, or something funny or cute, or maybe has cats on it. And I wear converse or flip flops. I'm extremely low key and I like it that way. I don't really feel the need to be "out there" displaying who I am in what I wear. I leave that for my home. If you've ever been to my house you know that it is exploding with color and all types of creativeness. Whether I made it, bought it, collaged it, it's all my personality, it's all things I love. It's all ME. I feel like most people they go out and they show who they are, in how they dress. You can tell so much about that person, from how they dress. They take pride in that. And with me, I tell it with the way I decorate my insides, both the literal inside of my house and the inside of my being...in the bearing of my soul through the words that I write. Those 2 things are my "style." They are me showing the world who I am. That's why I used to try to get new friends that I made, to come over to my house, like all the time. I wanted to truly show them who I am. They weren't going to get it just from what I wore or what I talked about, necessarily. I wanted to show them the real me. I stop trying now, because no one ever has the time to come over, but one day, maybe I'll have someone who I can take on a tour of ME, through what is spilling all over my walls. I would truly love to do that. We all want to be seen for who we really are, and what makes us feel cool or special or beautiful.
By the end of the documentary I actually thought about how I wouldn't be against trying on a suit, that fit me right. I couldn't do a tie unless it was loose around my neck, in a sort of a "meant to be that way." I hate things around my neck, like scarves, so I seriously doubt I'd like a tie strangling me. But I might look kinda cool in a nice, tailored to me, suit. I'll probably never know because they are some dang expensive and I don't want one that bad. But if someone ever made me one, I'd wear it. It would probably feel nice to look good. I'm assuming. I can't remember the last time I did. For someone who has been on this Earth for going on 35 years, I sure do find clothing to be absolutely foreign to me. I never figured out what I look good in, or what I liked. I'd probably be a perfect candidate for one of those shows where they "fix" people's clothing styles. But I would never allow cameras to follow me like that. I do wish that when I was younger and super skinny, I wore clothes that I could've totally pulled off. Like if skinny jeans were a thing back then, I would've totally rocked them. At a time when I could've worn anything, I was wearing baggy overalls. I mean they were kind of in style, it was the late 90s, but I continued them into college... I'm not sure they were really in style anymore. But I also wouldn't have been wearing tight slutty clothes anyway. I was a good little Christian girl, there's no way that would've happened. But I still could've pulled off so much more than I did. Oh well. You can't go back. I'm not a person that lives with regrets. Everything happens for a reason. Not a reason that always makes sense to you, or a reason that you actually find out what that reason is, but a reason, no less.
I think you can express yourself in a lot of different ways, and clothing is just one of them. If that's not you, do it with food, or words or crafts or music or art or a hundred different other things. You do you. I do me. And in the end, one day, no one will care what you're wearing, because no one's going to force them into wearing what you're wearing, so why does it even matter? I'd love to be alive when we finally get to that place together. That will be a great day.
Saturday, July 2, 2016
Fake death can hurt...and that's ok.
**SPOILER WARNING**
If you watch the show- Orange is the new black, and haven't finished season 4, and do not want to know who dies, then read no further. If you don't watch or don't care, then by all means read on. You don't have to watch the show, to understand what I'm saying.
So when I was thinking about blogging again, I kept thinking- Do I have anything new to say? I feel like I've repeated myself multiple times, beaten the "singleness" horse to death. And so I convinced myself not to blog. Does it really even matter? Does anyone read it? Does anyone take anything from it? Well, I don't know about that last question, but I do have friends and others who tell me that they do read. I don't do it for them, but it's nice to know that I'm being heard. But also a little scary. I know I'm putting myself out there for anyone to read this, so it's not like I'm being forced to share secrets or struggles or "embarrassing" little tidbits about my life. I put that in quotations, because I don't like that word, "embarrassing." At least not when it comes to aspects about who you are or how you feel, or anything along the lines of the truths that make you, you. Don't be embarrassed if, like me, you take the death of a TV character really really hard. Like so hard that you bawled over it as if a close loved one had actually died and had to take a walk by the lake to calm yourself and reflect on life. I'm not embarrassed that I reacted that way. I've cried over the death of a beloved character on one of my many favorite shows, but never this hard. I did take some inventory, some stock, as to why maybe I reacted so strongly. And I came up with this: Something she said, last season, really resonated with me. She spoke the words that I feel every single day. Last season she was so lost and alone. She wanted love, she wanted to be loved. She had feelings for her best friend in prison, but unfortunately that girl was never going to be able to love her the way she wanted to be loved. She was straight and it was as simple as that. I don't necessarily have that exact experience, but I was in love with a girl who could never love me like that. But I won't go into that, again, because it's unrealistic and fantasy. So this girl, she was the only character that seemed pure, innocent. We find out after her death that she was in prison for trespassing and possession of less than an ounce of drugs. How she could be in prison for at least several years so far, with several more to go, just for marijuana possession, is beyond me, but this show definitely shines a light on the corruptness and all out, for lack of a better word "problems" with our prison system. But that aside, she most definitely was the kindest character on the show. She was smart and well-educated and not in a "I'm so much better than you," Piper-kind-of-way. She had a bright future. Everything turned around for her this season. She found love. She met her idol, a "Martha Stewart" type chef in jail for tax-evasion, who seemed sincere in helping her find a job in the food industry when she got out. I should've seen it coming... but something like what happened to her, you could never see coming.
Like I said, something she said last season really connected her to me. After being cast out by her group, due to a psycho leader who thankfully met her demise, she was as low as you can get... in prison; getting drunk off her "hooch" aka prison wine, that she made and hid in places like the library ceiling and buried under bushes in the dirt. Luckily that psycho bitch met the end, or rather the front of a prison van and has been erased from the show. But that was 2 seasons ago. Last season she struggled with finding meaning and existence, in this world she was currently living in. She was lost and alone. Unlike me, she found some escape in the "hooch" she made, and was drunk a lot of the time. But like me, she also found escape in "stories." In her case, ones written by Crazy Eyes aka Suzanne Warren, which in her words is about "two people connecting with four other people... and aliens." And that tells you all you need to know right there. So when her bestie finds a drunk and distraught Poussey (that's her name, I don't think I've said it yet, it's French) on the stairwell, Poussey is rattling on about how the main character was supposed to be with someone else. She took it personally, like I often do in shows. She thought if "Gilly couldn't find love and he's the purest soul in the universe," then how could she? Of course her bestie reminds her that it's "just a dirty story" and she's right. This is just a story. It's not real. Poussey isn't real. But her words were real to me. In her depressed, drunken state on those stairs with her sweatshirt only half-way on, she said the words that I feel all the time. She was talking about wanting to have someone to spend her future with and her best friend says "you've got me," but as Poussey's voice breaks, she says the words of my heart: "That's not enough. I'm lonely. I'm always gonna be lonely." Having a best friend I see a couple times a year and maybe one or 2 other friends I see about equivalent to that or maybe add a couple more with one of those friends, isn't enough. And I feel like this is how it's always going to be. I don't say that in a "feel sorry for me" "I'm going to die alone" depressing sort of way, I just mean, it feels like this is my life. This is what I get. Some people get handed a child with a disability, some, poor health themselves, some always struggling to make ends meet never having enough money to get out. And for me it's not having anybody to love completely and fully and physically and to have that returned to me. It's not fair. But neither is going to prison for 4-6 years for something so stupid as less than an ounce of marijuana, and then to die in that prison.
I was going back and watching scenes with her, remembering things she said that resonated with me. She's probably the person I'm most like, in this fictional prison. When one of the Correction Officers asked them to write about their feelings, she had this to say to him: "Did it ever occur to you that we don't wanna get in touch with our feelings? That actually feeling our feelings might make it impossible to survive in here?" I actually can't explain this in words, but I get it.
She says a couple other things about love that are spot on: Love is just "chilling, you know? Kicking it with somebody, talking, making mad stupid jokes, and like, not even wanting to go to sleep, 'cause then you might be without 'em for a minute. And you don't want that."
"Love is not about staring at each other, but staring off in the same direction."
I'm going to miss all the poignant things she had to say. The way she cared about books and her friends and the girl she fell for. She saved her life once and then lost her own. Sigh. I guess I can see why the writers wanted to kill her character and not somebody else on the show. No one else's death would've hurt as hard as hers. No one had a soul like hers and no one had a smile like hers. We have Samira Wiley to thank for that. Luckily she is still here. She's not gone. We can see her smile and her bright soul somewhere else. But it's ok to mourn her character. It's ok to hurt. It makes you more human. It makes you think and reflect and write more deeply... at least in my case. Poussey, you'll be forever missed and never forgotten...and thank you for this last look, right straight to all of us.
If you watch the show- Orange is the new black, and haven't finished season 4, and do not want to know who dies, then read no further. If you don't watch or don't care, then by all means read on. You don't have to watch the show, to understand what I'm saying.
So when I was thinking about blogging again, I kept thinking- Do I have anything new to say? I feel like I've repeated myself multiple times, beaten the "singleness" horse to death. And so I convinced myself not to blog. Does it really even matter? Does anyone read it? Does anyone take anything from it? Well, I don't know about that last question, but I do have friends and others who tell me that they do read. I don't do it for them, but it's nice to know that I'm being heard. But also a little scary. I know I'm putting myself out there for anyone to read this, so it's not like I'm being forced to share secrets or struggles or "embarrassing" little tidbits about my life. I put that in quotations, because I don't like that word, "embarrassing." At least not when it comes to aspects about who you are or how you feel, or anything along the lines of the truths that make you, you. Don't be embarrassed if, like me, you take the death of a TV character really really hard. Like so hard that you bawled over it as if a close loved one had actually died and had to take a walk by the lake to calm yourself and reflect on life. I'm not embarrassed that I reacted that way. I've cried over the death of a beloved character on one of my many favorite shows, but never this hard. I did take some inventory, some stock, as to why maybe I reacted so strongly. And I came up with this: Something she said, last season, really resonated with me. She spoke the words that I feel every single day. Last season she was so lost and alone. She wanted love, she wanted to be loved. She had feelings for her best friend in prison, but unfortunately that girl was never going to be able to love her the way she wanted to be loved. She was straight and it was as simple as that. I don't necessarily have that exact experience, but I was in love with a girl who could never love me like that. But I won't go into that, again, because it's unrealistic and fantasy. So this girl, she was the only character that seemed pure, innocent. We find out after her death that she was in prison for trespassing and possession of less than an ounce of drugs. How she could be in prison for at least several years so far, with several more to go, just for marijuana possession, is beyond me, but this show definitely shines a light on the corruptness and all out, for lack of a better word "problems" with our prison system. But that aside, she most definitely was the kindest character on the show. She was smart and well-educated and not in a "I'm so much better than you," Piper-kind-of-way. She had a bright future. Everything turned around for her this season. She found love. She met her idol, a "Martha Stewart" type chef in jail for tax-evasion, who seemed sincere in helping her find a job in the food industry when she got out. I should've seen it coming... but something like what happened to her, you could never see coming.
Like I said, something she said last season really connected her to me. After being cast out by her group, due to a psycho leader who thankfully met her demise, she was as low as you can get... in prison; getting drunk off her "hooch" aka prison wine, that she made and hid in places like the library ceiling and buried under bushes in the dirt. Luckily that psycho bitch met the end, or rather the front of a prison van and has been erased from the show. But that was 2 seasons ago. Last season she struggled with finding meaning and existence, in this world she was currently living in. She was lost and alone. Unlike me, she found some escape in the "hooch" she made, and was drunk a lot of the time. But like me, she also found escape in "stories." In her case, ones written by Crazy Eyes aka Suzanne Warren, which in her words is about "two people connecting with four other people... and aliens." And that tells you all you need to know right there. So when her bestie finds a drunk and distraught Poussey (that's her name, I don't think I've said it yet, it's French) on the stairwell, Poussey is rattling on about how the main character was supposed to be with someone else. She took it personally, like I often do in shows. She thought if "Gilly couldn't find love and he's the purest soul in the universe," then how could she? Of course her bestie reminds her that it's "just a dirty story" and she's right. This is just a story. It's not real. Poussey isn't real. But her words were real to me. In her depressed, drunken state on those stairs with her sweatshirt only half-way on, she said the words that I feel all the time. She was talking about wanting to have someone to spend her future with and her best friend says "you've got me," but as Poussey's voice breaks, she says the words of my heart: "That's not enough. I'm lonely. I'm always gonna be lonely." Having a best friend I see a couple times a year and maybe one or 2 other friends I see about equivalent to that or maybe add a couple more with one of those friends, isn't enough. And I feel like this is how it's always going to be. I don't say that in a "feel sorry for me" "I'm going to die alone" depressing sort of way, I just mean, it feels like this is my life. This is what I get. Some people get handed a child with a disability, some, poor health themselves, some always struggling to make ends meet never having enough money to get out. And for me it's not having anybody to love completely and fully and physically and to have that returned to me. It's not fair. But neither is going to prison for 4-6 years for something so stupid as less than an ounce of marijuana, and then to die in that prison.
I was going back and watching scenes with her, remembering things she said that resonated with me. She's probably the person I'm most like, in this fictional prison. When one of the Correction Officers asked them to write about their feelings, she had this to say to him: "Did it ever occur to you that we don't wanna get in touch with our feelings? That actually feeling our feelings might make it impossible to survive in here?" I actually can't explain this in words, but I get it.
She says a couple other things about love that are spot on: Love is just "chilling, you know? Kicking it with somebody, talking, making mad stupid jokes, and like, not even wanting to go to sleep, 'cause then you might be without 'em for a minute. And you don't want that."
"Love is not about staring at each other, but staring off in the same direction."
I'm going to miss all the poignant things she had to say. The way she cared about books and her friends and the girl she fell for. She saved her life once and then lost her own. Sigh. I guess I can see why the writers wanted to kill her character and not somebody else on the show. No one else's death would've hurt as hard as hers. No one had a soul like hers and no one had a smile like hers. We have Samira Wiley to thank for that. Luckily she is still here. She's not gone. We can see her smile and her bright soul somewhere else. But it's ok to mourn her character. It's ok to hurt. It makes you more human. It makes you think and reflect and write more deeply... at least in my case. Poussey, you'll be forever missed and never forgotten...and thank you for this last look, right straight to all of us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)