I want to write even though my thoughts feel like scrambled eggs and sound outrageous.
I want to reach out to people and have people reach out back.
I want to be left alone. I want to be held.
I want to wear an astronaut’s outfit so I can’t be touched- and a rocket to escape with.
I want to take fifty showers a day with a sandblaster, because I cannot I get clean enough.
I want to change my hair color (again) and my clothes (again) and my job (again) and where I live (again) so when I look in the mirror, there is nothing there to remind me.
I want to build that brick wall back up as quick as I can when I find a hole in it.
I want a delete button hard-wired in my brain.
No… First I want to transfer my memory out into a hard drive, and THEN a delete button.
I want to live on a desert island with my daughter, a bunch of happy female monkeys in touch with their spirituality, with eternal internet and a nice hammock.
I want to stop freezing when I’m frightened.
I want to protect others.
I want to be protected.
I want the guilty to be held accountable.
I want to pound the gavel myself when its time.
I don’t want to be there when it’s time.
I. want. Peace. Within myself.