The real fairy tale life

Christmas eve, cuddled up with blankets and homemade hot chocolate (it's chocolatier and creamier than normal hot chocolate) and marshmallows, with a stupid old chick-flick that you've watched every year for the last 10 years, because it's become your tradition, and then putting the kids to bed early and hiding their presents and getting everything ready for them, because even though you'll be tired all day it's worth it to see them smile.

Going to the grandparents and the in-laws on boxing day because Christmas day is your day with the family, and having fun, playing board games because you can't beat the classics, sitting down for a dinner and laughing at ****** ******* jokes.

And then when the kids fall asleep, loading them into the car and going home, ready to go back to work the next day, because you work a full time job just to support your family to make sure they're never missing anything. Only to get ready for new years eve and partying the night away with your friends before escaping to kiss at midnight...

That's the real fairy tale life, not the marrying royalty and becoming a princess but marrying the one you love and starting a family, because not everything has to be perfect, just as long as you're together

What happens when the good girl goes bad
like the spoiled milk she left out?
Because I couldn't seem to get up.
I think it was something about acknowledging that I'm alive, I'm here.
Wouldn't it all be easier if I wasn't?

When the good girl goes bad
because she worked her *** off on that paper and only got a C.

When the good girl goes bad
because the world doesn't treat her right,
but I guess it must because that's
how come I'm the good girl.
Not my depressed sister sitting in her room;
not my other sister running around, destroying everything I had to work for;
most definitely
not my other sister who always seemed to be your favorite but is now smashing plates in our backyard,
'cause I guess that's what happens if you get too close to you.

When the good girl goes bad,
you get angry because
I'm supposed to be your perfect child
not supposed to be
your ***** up child
your lonely child
your lazy child
your anxious child
not supposed to be
your good for nothing child
your dysfunctional child
your doesn't give a **** about anything anymore child.
why don't I ******* give a **** about anything anymore?

When the good girl goes bad
your life falls apart,
because clearly
you had enough to deal with already,
because clearly
this is all my fault,
because clearly
you don't have the time to face your good girl
and
because clearly
that's all on me.

When the good girl goes bad
because you left her out on the counter all those years, sitting there to rot.
And though I know that you can't waste your time putting it away, 'cause you never cared for it anyway,
maybe you shouldn't have bought the milk if you didn't want to drink it.
And I know the milk should take care of itself
but I tried and that only works for a couple of years
before the good girl gone bad falls far off the counter, spills across the floor,
and the only thing left is to throw that nasty old milk away
because your bread, eggs, oil, etc. need your attention
and it's just too late for the good girl.

When the good girl goes bad
because she never asked to be the good girl
or maybe I did, I don't really remember,
but not like this.
I just wanted to be loved
but little did I know that
the good girl just sits there
keeping herself afloat,
but the boat can't guide itself if it wasn't given eyes.
The boat can't patch itself if you keep telling it its still brand new
when its really old, broken, and covered in holes.
You shouldn't put a boat in the water if you know its going to sink,
but I guess you only really need a couple good boats
so you can just toss the good girl.

When mama's little good girl goes bad,
she feels guilty
because she was told she'd always be
the good girl.
Though, its hard being the good girl when you don't have any windshield wipers for your tears at night.
But the tears at night aren't supposed to exist
because
I'm still mama's mother ******' good girl,
just...
please pretend I haven't gone bad.

The first time
you said you loved
me, it was as if
I had been pulled aboard
a life raft after being
lost at sea. But
I see now that this
raft is littered with
holes and
we are sinking, but
you are convinced
that your love is a
teacup to scoop out
the water pooling around
my ankles and you will save
us, but the teacup has a crack
down one side and
do you see where I
am going with this?
A tablespoon of water
will never put out
a forest fire; I am burning
through acres.

I'm tired.
Tired of everything.
I just want to sleep,
And never wake up again.

No, I'm not lazy,
I'm not running away from life.
I'm just tired of the world and myself,
And too tired to change anything.

i tell you i’ve had a bad day
my depression whacked me
upside the head
and i cried on the bathroom floor

and you share photos
of a quaint forest path
saying that is the real cure for depression
and the pills i take
are a lifelong addiction because
if the pills really did work
then i wouldn’t still be on them
until your fingers ****** bleed

as if my mental illness
is a nasty cold
that requires antibiotics
for about a month
and once i am “better”
i’ll be okay on my own

you treat my pills bottles
like a crutch that makes me weak
like i am a bad person for trying
to live my life worth living
a life which just so happens
to be medicated

and that comes from such
a place of privilege
you and your stupid pictures
of forest paths that have nothing
to do with depression
and anxiety
and screaming hallucinations
that have left me
sobbing on the floor
making myself bleed until
i can tell what’s real again

my mental illness is a chronic thing
even when i am stable
i will never stop being mentally ill
just because i have more good days
than bad doesn’t mean i can cold-turkey
the very things that
keep me functioning
without losing my mind

and when i did try
to go off the meds in high school
you smiled and told me how
brave i was
how strong
how i didn’t need the medication

and days later when i
spent two hours sobbing
until i almost puked
because of the lasagna i had
accidentally burnt to a crisp
you laughed at me
and my tears
and told me to **** it up
to man up
to just be happy

like you telling me to
just be happy
will replace the serotonin my
brain can’t produce enough
of on its own

like you calling me weak
for being on medication
will take away the very real
truth that without
taking those pills every morning
i would have tried to ****
myself again and would
have probably succeeded that time

like you sharing your
pictures of forest paths
and demonstrating your complete
and utter lack of knowledge as to
how medication that isn’t antibiotics works
will suddenly fix
what is broken in my brain

but you take medication
that a doctor prescribes when you
are sick enough for that
to be needed
and nobody calls you weak

and when you break a bone
you get it set in plaster
well i can’t put a cast on
the cracks in my psyche

so i do the next best thing
because if your brain can’t
produce enough serotonin
to keep you wanting to live
all on its own
then store-bought is fine

(and you turning on me
when my mental illness stops
being something i can manage
on my own
says more about you
than it ever will about me)

Family, they say, who do you have;
and you go: mother, father;
stop cold.

The Japanese version of the word, kazoku, means siblings over all blood relations, isn’t necessarily inclusive of parents, is one of the few words where the Japanese version of it makes you pause over the English one.

The you, the old one, in 1st grade of the distant past,
she comes up with more names eventually,
and without much pause;
she goes grandmother, grandfather, (great) aunts 1 through 4, 2nd cousins here, 3rd cousins there, and oh, the 9 first cousins on her mother’s side, 1 aunt, 3 uncles, mother’s mom’s sister, other great aunt, her children — she loses count. (besides, her teacher makes her stop after grandparents.)


Family, they say, who do you have;
and you go: father (genuinely), mother (out of habit);
stop cold.

And the people you love who don’t love you back;
you are starting to gradually tear their influence
away from your heart.

Your grandparents; the alive ones (their names will come back if they stop identifying different with bad; will be torn the rest of the way off, like an infected limb from the rest of the body, if (when) they realize the tie of different to you.)

Aunt 4, of the open minded branch (if it ever comes to the schism, there’s a chance she might choose you - but you would send her back away, refuse to take away her grandchildren for her great niece.)

Your friends
(And this is just waiting until the day you believe it, because you’ll always be terrified to say it. Family is made, family is more than blood, but your breath catches because everybody leaves, and you don’t quite have enough courage to say it yet - will never quite muster up the courage until it is no longer true.)

Your mother
(because she’ll always choose you but never enough; always a rejection in secret because she must not know and you must not hurt where she can see you.)

Family, they say, who do you have;
and you take a breath
and smile like it’s not fake
like that word hasn’t been fractured beyond repair for a while now,
and dearest, you lie.