You see, the thing is, some people can just open up.
They can just crack their hearts open.
Spill out the truth.
I can’t.
I won't.
Because if I did, everyone would think I was insane.
Everyone would see me for what I really am.
A mess.
An unlovable mess.
Used and disgusting
Fat and fake.
Mean.
Crazy.
Damaged goods.
That's who I am.
Not some put-together girl who has a few issues.
Not someone who knows how to help.
I can’t help.
But I can make it worse.
So much worse.
It would be so much worse if I opened up.
Trust me.
one thing about me is that I WILL be trying and failing to rhyme, just for sillies.
The Conflict of Guinevere
Free my woman she did all of it but I don’t care
In halls of wonder, vast and bright,
Where colors swirl and dance in light,
Where walls stretch high and ceilings soar,
And stories whisper through each door.
Each brush stroke whispers of a tale,
As if the canvas begins to exhale,
A hint of passion, a shred of pain,
The artist's soul within each frame.
From abstract splashes to portraits grand,
The beauty of the world at hand,
In every brush stroke, every hue,
A story painted just for you.
With every step, with every breath,
A masterpiece in every depth,
A world of wonder, there to see,
In each exhibited symphony.
So come and wander, lose yourself,
In halls of magic, in halls of health,
For the joy of art is always here,
In every image, every cheer.
Sorry.
I don’t mean to bother you.
I really don't.
I don’t mean to take up this much space.
I’m trying to be better.
I swear.
Sorry.
You say I apologize too much.
I wish I could apologize for that.
I just have become so close with guilt.
He sits on my shoulder every afternoon when I get home.
He whispers in my ear.
“You should be sorry”
He’s right, you know.
Because Guilt sometimes lets me call him by another name.
A nickname if you will.
(we are that close)
He tells me to call him Truth.
He’s right here if you want me to talk to him.
Sorry.
maybe i should just stop talking. i want all of my secrets back.
in the pilot jackie teases shauna abt her “catholic phase” and to that shauna responds that she liked the saints bc she thought they were “so tragic”. in the last ep of s1 during their fight the first insult shauna calls jackie is tragic. she calls her other things too but its so intresting that the first thing she thinks of is tragic. to me thats like a freudian slip. jackie was shaunas saint.
I feel like I am totally invisible. At home and everywhere else. Like I could say something completely earth shattering, and nobody would even acknowledge me.
I feel like everything I do is taken out of context, like I could be with someone who said something wrong, and it would be my fault.
I feel like I will never be right. I can’t trust my own thoughts, so why should I expect others to?
I feel like I can’t share myself fully with anyone because I know that they would leave so fast.
I want to get better, and I am putting so much fucking effort into it. Into being, looking, feeling, smiling, crying better. But it isn't working. At what point is it no longer worth even trying?
Jackie Sabbagh, “Having a Great Time Being Transgender in America Lately”