My ass is sinking into soft brown leather. It’s the type of day where my prickly thighs are sticking to seats and the melted ice in my drink makes the glass slip on the table. I own several different types of coasters because I am a woman who has an Etsy account and a weed addiction. I am also a woman who mostly uses the coasters to put ashtrays on top of so the tables around my apartment and the arms of my couch have rings decorating them. My head is throbbing because I have this unique feeling some describe as REGRET.
I love regret though. It feeds me. I love my shame. It propels me forward. On a day like today though, not so much. It won’t be until next week when I have learned to craft a day like today as a party joke or a first date anecdote. I can’t fully explain what has even postured me in this mental space. On days like today, even when my bed sheets are clean, I feel covered in crumbs when I curl in a ball under my covers. I know this familiar feeling of “I’m sorry I’m not enough I don’t know what I am doing I am a body in pain” type shit. So I sit with it.
I hold my phone up and flip the camera towards my face and do the only thing I can do- look myself straight in the eyes and say “I am asking you to forgive me.”
And so, I do.
"I own several different types of coasters because I am a woman who has an Etsy account and a weed addiction." - too real!!! I miss the old Etsy tho T.T