Fuckin life

 It's the last day of August 

I'm drinking a margarita that I made in my blender while I cooked dinner 

While picking up my kid from the skate park

And seeing the gas light come on 

And not wanting to stop so. I inch back home and now I'm crying

My kid says I don't care about him and what he cares about

I obviously do but I'm too emotional to retaliate I just stop talking and go back to the rice that's off now and done and the chicken too 

I don't know how to be a good mother

No one ever taught me to

They only taught me how to clean up and be perfect

But never how to articulate emotion

So these emotions are foreign in my body

They feel like an illness 

And I'm sick about it because no way do I have the years to undo what's been done so I pass on the bitterness to the next generation and hope in time they'll heal the wounds of indifference and find the words to mend the sickness of avoidance