The Last Mermaid

~ 45 ~

- A future I'll never want -

He never came back. I realized, after a while, there was only so much energy I could spend reading twin flame articles, watching Ralph Smart, worrying about writing, etc. I needed to refocus.

I refocused my attention on money - inspired by the financial magazine my sister had sent secretly in the mail. I also realized that I needed to grow up. Growing up meant building up my resume long term even if that meant sucking up to my niece and nephew's private school substitute teaching - even if that meant dealing with the deprived, snooty teachers and being bored out of my mind.

Meanwhile, I would find other ways to make rent on top of that - such as dog walking, and the occasional paid midnight rendezvous. Lots of coffee, little sleep.

It means, realizing with great alarm, that I may never mean anything within the course of my life. My poetry mediocre, my interest in art (HA!), and singing? I learned now to stop singing in the car. To stop dreaming of an escape from my day job.

I cried the moment I let another man touch me - faking a smile, being sacrificial, and for what? For a fake personality - the same one I show to my supervisors in the morning, what I try to achieve when I shove down my antidepressants twice a day and do my therapy work. The lie that I try to convince my mom, and myself as I commute to work in the morning - that Romanticism is useless, the only thing worth fighting for is the slow rise to success and persistent false optimism in the face of a selfish world. 

I begin to snap at the children in my class - perhaps out of resentment for my barren womb? Meanwhile, I stare at pictures of them every so often, cry, drink, tell my therapist that I have relapsed, as she chastises me for not doing the work! She tells me I don't "love myself enough."

I read self-help books. Perhaps I'll give up teaching to become a school psychologist instead? I'm bored, I am miserable, a late-night wine-drinker, a day-waster.