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I am not responsible for my actions, but I fear that I will be soon enough
2002-10-18 // 6:24 p.m.

Sometimes I am a child, and right now is one of those times. I am cutting responsibility teeth, and I cannot--will not--take it without screaming and crying.

I feel like I am railing silently against the universe which, while not implicitly against me, is surely struggling to keep me down right now.

Part of me knows I should embrace this conflict; that I should see it in all of its wild and willful growth potential and love it like I'd love a puppy. But I cannot--will not--take it, love it, hold it without also kicking it, punching it, fighting it. In a sense, I am conflicted over my conflict, which is both sad and beautiful all at once, not unlike the pile of rose parts left by the man who was stripping the blossoms to be sold at a corner market last night.

And the last thing I want to do right now is run away from this problem, really. I don't feel like hiding under my covers or drowning my cares in a bowl of strawberry ice cream. Right now, I want to think about this; I want to learn responsibility on my own, with the help of friends. I want to cry about my stupid problems, and then laugh at myself for crying over them.

I want to approach these things like a child-adult. I want to deal. I think I can.

I have a responsibily irresponsible Cunt, and She will cut her teeth and come out biting.


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