The other day I had a thought, the beginning of a thought. Like a moment of inspiration that probably could have led to something interesting. I said to myself inside my head, "Dumb bitch, take a minute and write that down. Grab the laptop or at least a notebook and record this shit before you forget it." But I didn't because I am a stupid girl, so now I can't remember it. Something about Sade and Adele. Their music so goddamn sad and sultry. Their music is the melodic equivalent of what was once my best writings. Not to assert that I match either of their talents, not even close, at least not yet. But the way that music makes me feel, miserable, alone, desperate, longing, that in your bones ache that can only be filled by the one you lost. Or the one you can never have.
Proving to the gods of love that I'm worthy. Proving to gods of love that I'm up for it, that I'm equal to the challenge. Preparing to be the Rhonda Rousey of love. Knocked down. Hard.
But.
Not.
Out.
Getting up kicking and swinging, fixing to fuck somebody up.
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