"i want someone to tell me what to wear every morning"

 “I want someone to tell me what to wear every morning. I want someone to tell me what to eat. 

What to like, what to hate, what to rage about. What to listen to, what band to like. 

What to buy tickets for. What to joke about, what to not joke about. 

I want someone to tell me what to believe in. Who to vote for and who to love and how to tell them. 

I think I just want someone to tell me how to live my life, Father, 

because so far I think I've been getting it wrong.”

-Fleabag, s2 


I think that having zero free will when you're a child heavily impacts your views of your autonomy for the rest of your life... but hey, maybe that's just me.

    The man who lived in my house, who donned the mask of father from time to time, was very insistent on my being all 'safe and sound'. So insistent in fact that trackers, locks and freedom in windows are how I've learnt to love. It's why ownership sounds so appealing at times, why the fucked up romances are the ones I fall in love with. Give me a Hannibal and Will Graham, give me a Phantom and Christine; everything else will bore me terribly. Hence most of my problems, really.

    Fleabag is a brilliant show by a brilliant woman of the name Pheobe Waller Bridge (Warning for spoilers as I wax poetics friends). Season two has a brilliant plot line surrounding a love that isn't allowed but one that changes for the better regardless. A love of a sort that I honestly have difficulty with for the sorrow it brings me. One that isn't meant for this life. Love of any sort is difficult enough to find so finding it, finding the sacred thing and then knowing you have to give it away? I think it would shatter me entierly. 

    The way Fleabag speaks of what she's looking for (as seen in quote that starts this post off) is precisely my struggle because ultimately I know what I seek is someone to pull the strings I cut once again. Familiarity and love will always be inexorably tied up in possession and obsession for me and I think this is one of the greatest injustices handed to me in the grand scheme of things, really. To unlearn what it is to love.

So here is a brief sonnet to my version of love and a scolding wrapped into one.

@ratsandlillies on twitter

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Palm against my own;

Guiding not leading

Pen on paper

Never thought i’d miss it

But here i am pleading


Strings attached to joints of my limbs

Push and pull to make me appealing

Moves predestined and against my consent

Control taken from a soul that's been bleeding


It's become not worth reaching out

When the feeling is this consistent

Why do you think it is

We’ve been feeling distant

Puppet propped by strings

Someone tell me what i'm meant to sing

Someone give me a step by step

Before I cut the strings


I'm thinly strung, highly too

As i dance across the living room

Of another lover, another brother

Another temporary favorite before another


I am intangible, I am smoke

I am everything of which sonnets are wrote

I am choking on my own smoke

My face turning blue and kicking like on a rope


Do the dance

Father please

Tell me what I'm meant to be 

Tell me to get on my knees

Please oh please sing for me


Follow orders 

Built to please

Tell me what I'm meant to be

Tell me to get off my knees

Please oh please sing for me


Palm against my own;

Guiding not leading

Knifeplay of sorts

Pretend that's the cause of the bleeding


And when I'm blanked out 

Staring at ceilings

I'll see strings that connect me 

And keep my from reeling



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

distant memories of mattering & hoping to be seen (if i could see what would become of me would i have stuck around for the scene?)

Image
 it's been so long since the stars have been gone yet i find i'm startled still when i wake up to an empty sky sat outside my window sill i swallow the feeling deep inside as it rises in me like vomit pray in all of my naivete that the moving objects no comet asked about myself this day id beg to go without comment for there is nothing really left to say without me being honest if i could dispose of my face even if i like the way it lays on the bone that composes my frame i think i know that i'd do it just the same if i could die for a moment in time  if i could be free of my body then i'd have so much that i could say  so many things to live for today  but i'm so acutely aware of my being contained and that's the excuse that i'll feed you today We wake up ...and it starts There was a time, i could swear where we dreamt of, dreamt of stars They truly didn't seem too far Before their faces became marred Prior to being barred I still had my bars Fixed firm...
Read more

"women are born with pain built in"

Image
“Women are born with pain built in, it’s our physical destiny: period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know. We carry it within ourselves throughout our lives, men don’t. They have to seek it out, they invent all these gods and demons and things just so they can feel guilty about things, which is something we do very well on our own. And then they create wars so they can feel things and touch each other and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. We have it all going on in here inside, we have pain on a cycle for years and years and years and then just when you feel you are making peace with it all, what happens? The menopause comes, the f***ing menopause comes, and it is the most wonderful f***ing thing in the world. And yes, your entire pelvic floor crumbles and you get f***ing hot and no one cares, but then you’re free, no longer a slave, no longer a machine with parts. You’re just a person.” - Fleabag    I, myself, am nowhere fucking near menopause but it doesn't...
Read more