March 11, 2012


'Potential' he says, 'I like to support people in realising theirs'.
Yea I know. It's a word I've heard before, many people have said that about me. That I have 'potential', potential to make them money, potential to become something I don't want to be, potential to scrub up well, potential to be starved, potential to be drugged, potential to kill, potential to please people, potential for a photographic memory, potential to rememeber nothing, potential to be manipulated, potential to become nothing more than a shared lump of pain riddled ignorant flesh.

He didn't mean it like that of course and I never told him the word is a bit of a 'trigger' for me. Everything is a 'trigger'. Espically people looking at me and talking.

Going back there has stirred me up in ways I wasn't expecting. I want to go back. To be part of a city where there are lots of possible sources of support. Where hundreds of thousands have been abused and thousands that are prepared to talk about it and help others. Where theres music on the wide streets that a sea of people, where there are more than two lanes of traffic. Reading Alice has made we wonder a bit if I was too quick to get pregnant, to follow the hormones, instead of fighting for some kind of independance. I still see the word of work as patriachy, a world where I'm devalued, exploitated and disrespected. When I see successful business women, I don't feel jealous. I feel their sacrifice, the bits of themselves that were locked down or cut of to let them become who they are and men just look like walking suits. Document thin symbols of masculine authority in the public world that translates into superiority in the private. Or the other way round, whatever.

I want to fly, I want to be my body, I want a break from being on the edge of tears all the time, desperate for drink, drugs and guitars playing my tune my way, my fingers don't bother with alters much they had a direct line to my soul. If I played for long enough I would wake up. But it was taken from me with the same hateful force that it was thrust upon me and the faint scars on the finger tips on my left hand are just creases caused by dry skin.

I wish there was some way for things to get better without them getting worse first.