She Reached Into the Storm

You really don’t have to, babe -

She used to say that all the fuckin’ time -

Like, maybe she thought I never wanted to do anything for her -

Or us, I guess.

But I did -

I really fuckin’ did.

And I know I should’ve been grateful,

For her patience and her calm -

But her understanding words only fanned the flames of my despair.

She grew up with money -

So maybe that’s why our struggle seemed temporary -

I let her think that it was -

Because I had never loved anyone more,

And losing her felt too big to handle,

When I had so little already.

But jobs are hard to find,

Money is hard to make,

And even harder to keep.

I told myself that she had the survival skills to live where we did,

The optimism to be happy with what we had,

And, so, I kind of believed her foolish hope that we would pull our bootstraps up together, projecting us into some sort of perfect future.

One where I’m not a total loser,

I would promise.

One where you are recognized for how wonderful you are,

She would retort.

And I felt whole and awful at the same time,

Every time.

Because when you spend your whole life counting corroded pennies, buying fumes to run your shitty car on, saving stinking, half cigarettes and working yourself to death -

Struggle hits differently -

It takes another shape -

An old, toxic friend you gotta keep around for sentimental reasons no matter how fuckin’ sad they make you feel with just their company.

You’re all they got in this world,

So,

You gotta get used to her poisonous influence.

Hell -

If you can -

Even embrace the shit her presence causes:

The way your apartment reeks of stale cigarettes could end up feeling nostalgic,

The way it’s too easy to get belligerent when faced with the slightest inconvenience can be reframed as blind passion…

Make the best of it, is what I’m sayin’,

Because,

Really,

You’re just watchin’ the ol’ bitch linger about menacingly quiet til those lottery numbers hit or some hopefully-rich auntie dies -

Or,

More believably,

You depart,

Your loved ones struggle to find an affordable box,

A date and time that works for all of them,

And where to put the rest of your struggle -

Bills and all.

Ain’t sayin’ it’s fair -

Ain’t sayin’ I like it -

Just sayin’ that struggle was built for us -

Despair was always meant to be our birthright.

But it doesn't have to own your time here.

She taught me that -

With her naive but endearing optimism and deep understanding.

I pray you let someone else teach you that too,

Let someone reach into your storm and pull you out,

If only for a little.

If this life is short,

Them it is unwise to dwell upon the inevitably awful,

Be stupid sometimes,

Buy yourself treats,

Touch the grass,

Vote with love,

Eat the rich,

And kiss her every night,

Indulgently.