And I don't want red
July 13, 2016 @ 11:13 p.m.
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       There's chocolate cake in the fridge. There should never be chocolate cake in the fridge. At midnight. There is also a plum dress in the closet and I feel the days falling and heading for the floor faster and faster. No chocolate cake, that dress is still too small.
       I feel alone. I'm not alone, Mary is here. Sleeping. But Athan is not and so I feel alone. I have a pile of books to get through but a sudden craving for a show. Don't know what, so maybe not. Book it is.
       It was not a revelation. I have thought it before: you can never be a good parent. There are good children, there are good people, but a good parent? I don't think so. From the moment you are handed new flesh and bone you start to press your shadows to the stark and untouched. Have to, I guess. Impossible not to. Perhaps even necessary. But still, what a fucking myth is the good parent.
       Poor kid.
       I want wine. But all my whites are stowed away not in the fridge. There's no space, I still have a watermelon to slice and so many mangos to freeze. So no space. Watermelon, lime and mint. And mango. Mango lassi.

       Yes to chocolate cake. Because that's what I want.
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