What a friggin hard place to be in again.

The fear of the pain, knowing that Cymbalta isn't a drug that I can take for pain anymore and not knowing what's next is frightening.

And I feel angry too.
Angry that this is my situation.
Angry that ignorance is based on indifference and sexism and lack of compassion. Angry that all this suffering is useless and just a waste of precious life. And that we bring this suffering upon each other.

But, what is the point in being angry? It is just staying in a deadlock with the devil.

I had so many dreams for my life.

A family. Children.

Intimacy. Love.

Whatever.

Just let me paint. But nope, that is too much to ask for too.

Life?

Well,

why pretend to be surprised

after all, I was murdered and violated and tortured six million of me

so, why would I be surprised that cruelty and indifference and ignorance
are sucking my life away from me today

Hello World:

Hello World:

Hello World:

Hello World:

Are you there World:

Are you there World:

Can you hear us World:

World, we have been crying and dying daily for centuries:

World, can you hear?

Ow, ooops, I think the reception is no good

oh, no, I think someone just hung up the phone

Oh, yeah, remember

I do remember in fact

Denial, Blaming of the Victim

Yes, yes,,,,

And so my VAGINA IS SHOUTING OUT VERY LOUD AND CLEAR::::::: WAKE UP WORLD!!! GET OUT OF YOUR CLOSETS LADIES!!!!! TURN THE VOLUME UP DEAR MEN::::::::::::::::

the sad part of it is that all my dreams are blowing in the wind

all I have left is my paintbrush

and my colors

and my white

white

white

tears