Miss Piggy

Congeniality Queen

I’ve been pushing off my responsibilities in favor of glamorous partying, large meals and not paying my own tab.I reached a point of no return. Knowing too much and doing too little. Being afraid of facts. To silence my truth I shove food down my mouth like a gluttonous pig who knows they'll never be let out of the barn again.

I am hooved. I am covered in dry dirt. I sleep with the horse flies. The place is on fire and it is going to cow me entirely. I lay down and accept my slow agonizing death. The farm hands will stare in awe of the flames and my howling. They don't know what I do. They smell bacon, their stomachs rumbling with anticipation. The cycle continues. 

Gluttony and Sloth have always been my two favorite sins. I couldn't relate to the other ones. I never knew how to start, let alone stop. They say when a plane lands it's more of a controlled crash and I have to agree. Everytime I land I tuck and roll. There's a magic in not knowing how the next day will go. I’ve been so unpredictable lately, and I haven't been helping myself. I don’t even want to. 

I spent Thanksgiving making some big joke with no punchline. I couldn’t take how lonely I was and made it my everyone else's problem instead. When I scrolled through everyone's thanksgiving dinners on Instagram, I felt a pit of anxiety in my stomach. At that point- my family has not sat at the dinner table together in years. I felt permanent tears kissing the corners of my eyes ready to fall at any minute. I spent the entirety of my last relationship trying to get emotionally adopted into a different family dynamic instead. I realized it made it harder to leave. I wear his dead grandmother's cashmere sweaters and have him blocked on social media. I create weird dynamics for myself because I am unfamiliar with how it's supposed to be. Too inexperienced to know the difference. I keep creating my own culture within the world we all live in. I don’t take others into consideration anymore, If I do I just get caught up in their worlds instead. My own life on standby. 

I do miss not having to care about my own life. I love to focus on something that's not myself or my problems. When you're lonely-  it's easy to get lost in your own head. Caring more about other people is such a Cancer sun trait. But I’ve always cared too much and for real. It's never been fake. Laurence, a friend of strange and unusual circumstances-  mentioned the traits of a woman that had a “fake American charm”. Obviously I have now internalized that. I second guess my acts of kindness. Kant made a really good point about what a morally good person should be acting and perhaps I fell off the wagon. Trying desperately to prove to myself that I do this because I want to. Not because I have to. 

All I do is feel … very deeply. All at once.

Even when I say goodbye to someone I deeply care for- I’m still scared to feel that. Everything feels forever when you’re trapped. I’m taking note of the emergency exits on the plane as I walk aboard. I hug him goodbye and It's like ripping out a part of my brain. This is my death blow KO.

I roll onto my back and I can feel my skin burning. Everything is hot and overwhelming. The barn sways back and forth and smoke billows under the falling structure. The hay and planks add fuel to the fire. My gown and pearls are melting into me. Beauty, grace and the price I pay. 

Everything is engulfed in its glory. 

Oink Oink, 

Finnian