Diary
Me
Extras
“Dear Lord, you see Amanda’s hurting right now. You know she’s suffering. Ease her pain, Lord, and let her feel your loving arms around her. Watch over her and keep her safe, and give her good rest and happy dreams. In your name, Jesus, Amen.”
My mom used to pray with me before bed, or when I got older, only when I was upset. She hasn’t done that in almost 10 years. I haven’t allowed her to. I’ve been angry at God, and borderline atheistic since I was in 6th grade. I went to a Evangelical Christian school, and I felt further ostracized because of my doubtfulness. But that wasn’t my fault. I don’t like to talk about how powerless and abused I was by that entire system and dynamic. It fills me with rage that lasts for hours and days. I can’t talk about it at great without going off on a tangent or crying.
Most days I accept my “lot” in life. I am an attractive fat chick, which makes me ugly to most guys. I am a realistic, smart, and outgoing girl, which makes me a bitch or cunt to people who can’t handle it. I am perceptive, which makes me both immune to bullshit and susceptible to depression and loneliness. Today was a lonely day.
Sometimes I just wish people could be nice. This is a wishful thinking thing I don’t often afford myself. Tonight I‘m forced to reckon with the fact that I‘m starved for affection. I wish I could just experience people being nice to me just to be nice; just a charitable and kind act, showing goodness to others. Not trying to take advantage of my smarts or confidence, not trying to fuck me or garner influence. Even witnessing selfless or generous goodwill to strangers. Kindness. Tonight at work, this gay male coworker came up to me and offered me a Lindt truffle. I thought he wanted to check out in my grocery line, but he was offering me one. A gift. He smiled at me.
“I really should find some way to actually chat with you more, Mandy.”
“You already added me on Facebook.”
“No, ha. I mean in actual, real life. We should be friends.”
“Oh! Well, yeah. Here’s my number, I never sleep.”
“Neither do I.”
It broke my heart. I’m a cynic and this simple gesture made me glow with hopeful joy. I was so happy to receive this nugget of affection from someone who didn’t really know me. It’s funny how that goes, you appreciate random compliments and “new” people in your life. …How much good has my mother contributed to my life (in the past)? My grandmother? Mitchell? Have I ever thanked them?
Cris… the boy. Why do I justify his bullshit? Cause I can’t see myself marrying the guy. But he likes me for me, and he doesn’t want me to fix him. He’s not perfect, but he wants me to accept who he is… and I get that. I guess. He took me out for Middle Eastern food and tried to take me home with him. I had to work. He’s used to getting the girl, he’s quite a seducer. But he likes me, you know? In a world of chicks that are supposed to be size 4/6, I’m a size 22/24. I’m not six times as big, as the numbers are meant to suggest. But I don’t get a lot of smart guys my way. They’re just ignorant fucks who like fat chicks because their moms were fat, or because BET tells them they should like fat chicks. Anyway, coupled with my personality, anybody looking for Paris Hilton or Megan Fox is gonna be pretty disappointed with me. I’m pretty. I’m just fat. All my intelligence and wondering, all my probing of my feelings, my passion for Social Work-- construed as a distraction for the fact that I can’t “get a man.” None of my skinny friends can find a good one either. They just look hot whilst failing miserably.
I feel like Bluebeard’s wife, digging and throwing open each successive, dark and daunting door. I can’t imagine ending my search, or forgoing the personal growth and self-excavation. It’s all I am. It’s all I have. When I get to the heart of this…
Past Five
given - 2009-11-15
rape of reason - 2009-11-13
rubbed away - 2009-08-13
eager eyes - 2009-07-24
silver lining - 2009-06-12