For my last three posts of 2023, I am reflecting on the theme of this substack in three parts: 1. Mother. 2. Lover. 3. Self. As always, I put my most personal work behind a paywall as means to protect myself and others. Thank you all for supporting the braid in 2023. Through the end of the year, I am offering 20% off paid subscriptions.
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One of my favorite lyrical phrases — maybe even my favorite — comes from Fiona Apple’s Werewolf, wherein she admits to feeding her monsters with moonlight.
I could liken you to a werewolf
The way you left me for dead
But I admit that I provided a full moon
It is highly relatable in a way that has reminded me, for the entirety of this year, how unoriginal I am in my willingness to walk every plank. A moth to the motherfucking flame. There are memes by the millions devoted to the same woman I am and the algorithm has me pegged in such a way I feel both seen and wholly unoriginal. Specifically when it comes to the one person I spent much of the last two years in and out and up and down with. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth.
There is so much to this story and also so very little that it feels impossible to articulate the layers of EVERYTHING and NOTHING that I have felt simultaneously from the same person. And how exhilarating that can feel — the pendulum swinging back and forth. The giving and taking away. Like being fucked in the heart.
It is a kind of weakness I am not alone in having: the need to feel both wanted and unnecessary. Desired and ignored. To achieve such a perfect swing, one has to be a natural: the kind of person who gets out of his chair at dinner and sits next to you while maintaining eye contact. Who says things like, “I love you but also this is nothing,” and absolutely means it. Says it all the way home with his hands nowhere near you until suddenly they’re everywhere and yes, you know this is nothing, of course, no it’s fine.
We had already done this twice before. The back and forth the theme of him and us. An erratic rhythm that over time, started to feel like home.
I could have just as easily left while I wasn’t ahead. That option was never not available. And yet. When you’re starved for a very specific something, there is nothing more irresistible than the smell of that very thing baking in the other room.
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