I Hope It Hurts.

1.)

I’ve spent the last of my money on movie tickets to see Superman with my father on Sunday.

I could of course have asked that he buy the tickets but its a set up I’m plotting upon myself you see.

Superman was quite important to me growing up, and some of that still lingers. The idea of a man truly capable and powerful enough of anything, impervious and nigh omnipotent still choosing to be infallibly kind, gentle, etc. ? My god if there was ever Sinclair bait there it is. A jesus for the modern age, a symbol of hope yet to be corrupted by the vile heart of man. Nothing could salve the jesus shaped hole in my heart that was punched in as a kid discovering that all of it was horse shit until Clark Kent came about. Superman means the world to me.

When my father inevitably once more flakes, abandons, forsakes us, this will be a deathblow to the lingering wisp of a child within my heart still yearning, still believing, still hoping, and finally I will be complete. My god I hope it hurts, I hope its devastating.

2.)

The therapist I met today says her older brother has spent his whole life, up until this day at the ripe old age of 67, being full of rage, and completely devoid of empathy. She says this is because when he was born, their mother abandoned him for years, leaving him with maids, grandparents, etc.

She brought all this up to explain that she “understands me perfectly”, that Im not unique, nor am I alone. I did not think any of those things about myself but, I decided to humor her.

We met at 8pm, an odd hour to be seeing clients, her office is in a dingy building, with an odd building entry code format, in a strange part of town. The whole situation was rather sketchy, and as I got dressed, got in the lyft, drove down the highway etc. I wondered if I wasn’t walking into some sort of dangerous situation, a trap of sorts, perhaps kidnapping or organ harvesting? Various scenarios emerged and dissipated within my imaginations — in my faworite one, this person I was meeting was some sort of deranged serial killer targeting psychiatric lost causes and murdering them. I imagined her throwing me off her balcony while I laughed at her all the way down until I went splat.

My day dreaming was disturbed when the driver made a sharp turn for almost missing the entrance to the office space and as I got out, to walk into the building I thought, “I hope it hurts”

3.)

My mother spends hours a day intensively praying, listening to sermons, worship fests, prayer lines, etc. It makes me sad to see. That sort of desperate devotion cannot be comfortable, healthy, or pleasant. The other day, though she didnt know it, she was describing to me the intensity of her absolutely debilitating OCD as I had described the frequent compulsion I have to check and touch the stove knobs, lock, unlock, relock the doors etc. Its funny she even suggested to me that I take a picture of the things I worry about because that sometimes helps her, its a classic coping mechanism/advice tip they give to people with this particular sort of checking OCD. I considered explaining to her what it is and that there’s treatment, that it would explain her desperations, devoutness, intensive cleanliness, how she feels her body itch when her bare feet touch anything etc. but, it would be in vain. She has stated she doesn’t believe in those things, that she doesnt believe in anything but jesus.

I knocked and walked into her room when I got home from therapy, she was clearly very sleepy, but was forcing herself to stay awake, hands clasped in the position of prayer, phone next to her head on her pillow. She tried to make conversation but I had to cut it short and leave early because seeing her like that, well it really hurt.

Hatred.

Hatred for the church, hatred for my parents, hatred for society, hatred with causes I can’t even identify. Hatred and rage consume me. They are burning me alive, and oh my god, it hurts so much I can’t even really feel it anymore. I still however, constantly hear screaming within.

hatred outlives the hateful.

post script:

Birdie, are you trying to reach me? I hope so,I have not seen that you are but I hope so. I do not reach out first myself because I believe you are better off without that. I hope things are better for you. Are you well? me I’m eating cup noodles because I wasn’t included in the family dinner plans and I’m feeling sorry for myself. It’s making me remember that day at Storm’s when you were laughing about the dry ramen do you remember? Always loved your laugh.

Rae did I ever tell you, I always wanted to be like Superman.