Thursday, October 6, 2016

Fuck






I talk to myself too much, more so lately.

The boy told me the other day: Dad, you say "fuck" too much.

I promised him that I didn't want to say that word too much. 

Then yesterday, I was muttering to myself and every few minutes the boy would notice that I had just whispered the sacred incantation to myself again.

It was funny and maddening, this comic and yet real need to change - want, not need. I posted a notice on the cabinet where I make coffee and tea, a reminder. I took a snapshot of it and made it my desktop on my phone. All day today I have been wanting to whisper the word, to make sure that it's still waiting there for me when something within my breath summons it from the depths.






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