vanilla raindrops

email: noreia@planet-save.com.

This is my blogchalk:
United States, California, sometimes Steiermark, Austria, something bored teenagers say when they speak useless words into brick walls of cotton candy, English, German, Noreia,creative writing, fiction, reading, college student, strange, cat power, mogwai, arap strap, dresden dolls, white oleander, the earth, my butt, and other big, round things, welcome to the dollhouse, fuckers.

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by BodyPUNKS!

 

it's strange when you feel like you're one the verge of something.  good, bad, change.  most of the time i miss that.

shoes scuffling over brown leaves on sidewalks.  looking up at the trees, patterns of spindly leaves on white winter light.  and you say abortion.  and you say get rid of it.  and, baby name books and family.  and i think, how did it come to this for you?  did it have to?  no, but what did you ever do to stop it? 

i don't know, i can't believe it's not your fault at all.  it's so desperate, so cyclic, that i can't believe you had no choice in the shaping of this life.  you could have left.  packed up, moved away, gone to college.  something.  anything.  your grandmother: pregnant at 19.  your mother: pregnant at 19.  you: pregnant at 19. 

and i, feeling like i care more this time, this walk, this conversation, this listening.  i care because i want to shout at you, it's not about you! and i want to hug you at the same time because it's so tragic.  but it would be an empty hug.  and i'm walking in silence, speaking slowly, calmly: think about what you're doing.  you're going to live with this forever, it's not going to go away.  have you talked about adoption?  and i don't say abortion.  and i don't say getting rid of it.  i say killing it.  i think, i might be this baby's only chance.

you don't want to kill it, you say.  you'd be doing it for them.  how can you make such a serious choice for someone else, and have to live with the result of it?

but i look inside myself and find mud-splattered dreams as well. 

you dream.  you constantly dream, in desperation.  your dreams always manifest marred, broken.

Posted by: noreia at 14:12 | link | comments (7) |