I've only ever been good at ******* **** up for myself

Who needs a faux pas when your mouth opens and you should bury your head in the sand?

The four walls around me have felt like a prison for longer than I'm willing to admit on paper

But I'd do the time again and again if it meant I could spend one more minute hearing your laugh, one more second watching the sparkle in your eyes, one more hour holding you in my arms, our hearts beating against each other.

There is something insane about me, sure. You'll hear that a lot, my boy. I've made poor choices. I've done wild things. I've lived enough lives for seven people. I've gone through literal hell.

But it was all worth it to be your mom. It will all be worth it to watch you grow.

Prison, I suppose, isn't so bad with a cool bunkie.

The ring finger is supposed to be the loveline, the path right to the heart, the "right" line

But I've seen far more work from index fingers, middle fingers, the palm of a large calloused hand pressed just right...

The ring finger means so little in the frame of a life, marriage just a pretty little lie we tell ourselves to excuse lust, to pretend like we're not all animals ourselves

I'd wager the true loveline is the one that points arrows below the bellybutton, that makes a leg shoot out too straight, that curls toes

Is love even a line, or just a black hole leading to a womb, the place where all things begin?

Scene one, Childhood

I never really learned to emotionally regulate,
Taking clues from Nickelodeon more than parents who set good examples,
Screaming fights and bruises and broken glass
Too much drinking, the smell of cigarettes
Moms broken bones
Make yourself small, make yourself gone
They may not notice you.

We played family a lot, curtaining blankets over a bunk bed to block the outside, and in family, I always took care of my babies.

Scene two, 18

I never really learned to emotionally regulate, taking clues from the friends around me more than parents who set any example.
A false father leaving, a mom losing her cash cow
The smell of Arbor Mist and ***** still makes me sick, mom’s incoherent fists still make contact in my sleep, I still wouldn’t have given her the keys.

We don’t play anymore. We’re mostly estranged. But we work. And in family, I always took care of my babies.

Scene three, 28

I’m trying to learn to emotionally regulate, the slideshow of couches and faces of therapists trying to set an example.
A son born to trauma, a marriage of consequence, I’m still learning to love myself, please, the sound of yelling still makes me sick,
I don’t know how to do this.

We are grown now, we are mostly put together. And now we live. But this is my family, and I will always take care of my babies

I was conceived on acid and whippets, the drugs a kaleidoscope of umbilical dreams.
I was conceived on bad luck and lust, from darkness and sexually exploitive childhood trauma.
I was conceived on teenage dreams and difficult childhoods, to black sheep children of 17.

I was raised on addiction and narcissism, a love bomb here and authoritarian abuse there.
I was raised on the chess long game, to lose a piece here means to win at the end.
I was raised on 2000s tv, Lorelei Gilmore my wish for a mother, Rory my idol.

I taught myself strength in building up a fantasy on the outside while my castle crumbled within.
I picked myself up by the tendrils of a lost childhood, by the whispers of good memories, by the hiding places I found in pages upon pages of someone else’s imagination.

And I let it all go at 28. To find peace. To start over. To build myself a new castle with no more haunted corners or echoes of pill bottles or smells of ***** and orange juice permeating the breaths of those who walk these sacred halls.
Rib cage cut open, heart destroyed and renewed, ancient umbilical nooses cut with teeth.

I will no longer fall victim to my mother’s circumstances or my father’s mistakes, I will never have the soul I’ve created look at me and ask himself if he is loved or safe.

I am cycle breaker,
I am generational karma’s worst ******* fear,
I am no longer frightened maiden,
I am fearsome mother.
I am new.