social working my darkest darkness
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I don’t care about working. I don’t dream about labor. Like, actually having to have a job to survive is a concept that never sat right in my spirit. I have legitimate reasons to be tired hence why I’m always tired. I’m tired right now. I’ve carried the weight on my own. Go back and read any job posting. It includes something about lifting.
There was a time when the #masc4masc and #muscle4muscle gays would ask, in the most dickhead way possible, do you lift? Oh, you mean weights? I’m not really into exercise. If God wanted me to bend over he’d put diamonds on the ground. That’s a quote from Joan Rivers and my brain functions like that. I’m always inspired by strong women. Joan made me laugh when nothing else would.
A thought is followed by a lyric, a quote, a movie scene or a real-life nightmare. I met her at what would be the last book signing she did. I told her she’d saved my life and she said I’d get a bottle of champagne at her next show. Fair trade if you ask me. Success requires work and I work at it hence why I’m here trying to tell you a story.
I was raised by my dad in the projects of San Juan. He’s righteous Puerto Rican man with a singular ability to be grateful despite the circumstances of his condition. And there were lots of it. Not just the wheelchair. But because of the wheelchair, something as simple as parking was a struggle cuz often there wasn’t enough space for him to leave/enter the car. Isn’t it amazing I’ve been driving since 7 and I still do it terribly? He was 19 with two kids when it happened. I’ve never seen him stand up, you know? He kept smiling. He kept going. Maybe that’s why he wasn’t aware that wanting to never breathe again is something I started wishing by my fifth birthday.