breastfeeding a 17-year old

Mostly Mine

The struggle brings the knowledge and the knowledge brings the fruit and the fruit is what you make of it, and my fruit is mostly truth.
Honesty is good but in many ways is bad cause when you start speaking it ears don’t get  glad in fact they really hate it honesty is a force for looks inside,  that same exact shit  is the stuff  that makes us hide. ..wearing a mask on every single day, different masks for different people even talking different ways. I was born with several masks, used to wear them all the time,  few I have left and this face is mostly mine.

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Not Now, nor, forevermore

It makes me mad that I have to watch my back when I walk out my back door to let my dog go pee.

Seriously….I don’t think you know the struggle.

It’s like this everywhere I move.

Now…one might say, “Well, Athena, don’t you think since it happens everywhere you move, that it is possible that YOU ARE THE PROBLEM?

Yeah….I get that.

But the problem is, they do shit FIRST, and so my actions are a fucking REACTION.

And yes…I do realize that neither the black neighbors, nor the white ones, were expecting the reaction they received from their own actions…

NEVERTHELESS….

I put up with way too much shit as a youngster, to take any now.

So fuck them all.

I am the sweetest, most forgiving, loving ASS MEAN BITCH YOU WILL EVER WISH YOU NEVER MET.

Jesus didn’t make me a rocket scientist

“If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want none of you” -athenaswickedowl

I don’t have Instagram anymore, to scroll through and look at people’s pictures…people I don’t even really know, and whose pictures I don’t even really like.  I just like them, anyway, to ‘pay it forward’ or whatever that dumb shit is that only about 1% of the population really does.

What’s funny is that even though I’m liking their pictures that I don’t even really like, they’re not liking any of my pictures they don’t even really like…and that pisses me off.

Why can’t I just not like any of their pictures I don’t even fucking like?

BECAUSE I UNDERSTAND THAT PEOPLE POST SHIT BECAUSE THEY WANT IT TO BE LIKED OR THEY WOULDN’T HAVE FUCKING POSTED IT.

Jesus….he didn’t even make me a rocket scientist…

Just Wondering

Is it that I became lonely or was I always lonely and didn’t realize it? I also wonder if it is that I prefer being lonely but won’t say that out loud because that’s a really emo thing to say….

Cause You Are

I keep losing at 8-ball pool but i keep playing anyway I’m listening to Tool cause this sunny day was a rainy day I gotta lotta thoughts i wanna say but my demons and angels keep getting in the way  that sounded like shit and i just want to quit bullshitting around at this night’s last sip no it’s really not the last sip of the ship that is going down flaming while i do a backflip i just lied again because I can’t do a gymnastic i took lessons one time and i loved that shit but dad thought it not so fantastic he told me i would end my life by breaking my neck a mop he gave me told me to sweep up his deck….i love being punny because i think that  its funny and i love to laugh in my belly when things are smelly and putrid and rotting and the whole thing that i call my world is twisting and turning and i know im a girl or a woman i suppose i love to cover my face in panty hose and pretend im a rob ya and rape ya and say that i got ya cause you suck balls and i don’t like you but i want you to love me and think that I’m awesome as gold wait til you see how my life will unfold, so far it’s been bad with some sprinkles of good when Im doing the things they say that i should but when the words in their mouth don’t match the words in their motions it causes my heart to feel some emotion and the emotion is anger cause that’s the one i’m best at I can cuss you up one side then this side and that and sound like my old favorite doctor who is doctor suess many times in my life dr suess has been my muse especially right now tool still playing in my ear and all that I hear is vicarious  so near but I’m not queer cause you are.

An Angry? Borderline In 107 Words

I don’t care.  I don’t care…i don’t care

i don’t care….no, bruh, i really don’t fucking care, I don’t give a fuck, fuck off, lol, fuck you, i dont care, it doesnt matter, i’m fine, i’m a’ight, fuck me, fuck yourself,, fml, fml, i want to die, i wish i would die, i hate you, fuck you, eat shit and die, i love you so fucking much, why didn’t you come?, why don’t you love me?  what the fuck did I do to you?  You’re a fucking sociopath  I hate my life fuck i don’t care that didn’t hurt

go fuck yourself

leave me alone

I love Kanye West and I am racist now

It is my overwhelming desire always…the one that sits at the bottom of my gut…to write.  Writing intimidates me, though and I won’t do it.  I am not easily intimidated, either, I must say.

Last night my 19-year old daughter and I were jumped by several black women and a couple black dudes at my home. The attacks came from the neighbors across the street.

I live in a predominantly black neighborhood.  I mean, it’s slightly mixed with some white, but mostly the whites are old folks who (I ASSume) lived here before the black folks moved into the neighborhood.

I really have never been racist.  Not even when the racist cards were stacked against me.

I was raised in South Louisiana.   I went all the way through school living in one of the most notoriously racist parishes.  I do believe Livingston Parish is, at least, one of the homes of the KKK.

Where I’m from, it’s completely normal when white folks are around other white folks to hear, more than occasionally, the word nigger in everyday conversation.  Maybe not as much with people like teachers, and such, but I shit you not, a few years ago I walked into the refreshment room at one of the biggest churches in my hometown and one guy was at the coffee pot telling another guy a nigger joke and not even telling him in a hushed voice.  I immediately turned around and walked out of that room, sans refreshment.  It really bummed me out. I quit going entirely to that church not too long after that, not so much for the racist joke I heard, but for their Armenian theology and infiltration of hypocrites.  Blah.  That’s so boring.

At the risk of being called by some of my hometown people, a nigger lover, I will re-iterate that for some reason that existed in me before I was me, there was born a color-blindness in me that defied all logic, given my upbringing.  I will give credit where it’s due and say that my step-mother completely forbade the use of the word “nigger” by either myself or my little sister.  She did not say it, herself, nor did her parents.  My dad said  “nigger” in at least half of every sentence I ever heard that man utter, until I quit talking to both he and step-mom in 2011.  I’m sure he still says it, though.

He hates black folks.

I remember in about 1983, I went for an outing to the mall with my step-mom.  She must have either been feeling particularly loving toward me, or was trying to get me into trouble, but she bought me a tan-colored t-shirt with Michael Jackson silk-screened on it.  It was that picture where MJ is laying on his side with his jerry curl and white sports jacket.  I was so excited about that shirt!!!  We got home and I put it on to show my dad.  I was 7 and oblivious, really, and was really confused when my dad became super-angry at me and started screaming at me in his scary mean dad way.  He made me take the shirt off and I was told he burned it.  That’s all I remember about that.

The second time I was raped, it was by a black guy.  I never told anyone, though.  I talk about it now but not telling it like it’s a big deal, but more like just saying it because it’s part of my story.  I never told anyone about the first time I was raped and how a white guy did it, either.  I don’t really see how color is an issue, except if I wanna garner sympathy from whites saying that a black dude raped me, but since I didn’t tell anyone I wasn’t getting sympathy and sympathy is the fucking last thing I want, anyway.

(Praise, Accolades and Book Deals Are Fine)

I thought the sentence I just wrote was funny because the first sentence of this train wreck was that I was unable to write.

Maybe I was using reverse psychology on myself.  I can’t stand to be unable to do a thing as long as the thing I am doing is within reason.

After last night, I feel like I’m a racist now  and it feels weird.  It’s an idea that is completely bipolar to me now.  Pardon the pun that’s not really a pun because I’m not really bipolar.  I guess I’m getting jaded.  It really does get hard, especially when I feel pretty strong racism from many members of the black community with whom paths cross with mine, here lately.

I love Kanye West.

(DANGER….REAL LIFE AHEAD) *Teenagers are conceited assholes…and so might the parents’ be, as well

And yeah….we have not spoken in months, and this is the first thing she wants to send me…..OMFG.image

image

*The teenager I speak of is 3 months shy of NINETEEN.

Patiently Waiting

I’m your female, middle-aged freestyler, junk piler

Got ass sometimes and I’m wilder than anyone you’ve ever known

or ever will

my love is so strong you should put it in a pill

and sell it on the street

dancing to the beat

sell it to every person that you meet

My essence is fire and it is my desire

to teach you to choose only a higher way of being

but it’s seeming like no one hearing words that I’m screaming…

Words that I’m saying while these silly games

keep on playin

no one tells the truth and if you think they do

I can show you proof that it all was a lie

and I don’t know why

so I look up to the sky

and I wish I was with the stars

not with any cars

not with busy street heat underneath my feet

I’m hating it but dating it

since I took my first breath

Now I’m patiently waiting to be found by death.

Athena’s Bad Week

Athena has had a very bad week…

In December I allowed the people at mental health to medicate me with their drugs because they wouldn’t fucking prescribe me the drugs I wanted, like adderall and xanax, and it got to the point where it was like, “fuck man…something has got to change”.

I started taking Sertraline a.k.a. Zoloft and I can’t lie, that shit had me thinking and acting like I was a normal motherfucker with no seratonin issues.  I felt really great for about a month and a half before my skin fucking broke out in what I thought was excema and I started soaking the bed three times a night with ridiculous-ass nightsweats.

When I started looking for carpet to run my fingers through, to assuage the horrible fucking itching ass blisters that had cropped up in between my fingers, on my panty line, my stomach, under my titties and on my back….I knew it was time to let the Zoloft go.

I mean, I think I could have lived with the night sweats, even though when I woke in the morning, I smelled like I had just run three miles while fucking a tuna…I could NOT DEAL WITH THE ITCHING.

FUCK THAT.

The last time I itched that bad were the days following that time my mom’s conure, Bud,  flew out the back door and into the trees and I climbed up every tree, some of them using a fence laden with goddamn poison ivy.

I went to the emergency room twice that fucking week and I didn’t even catch the fucking bird.

I don’t remember most of what happened this week in my detox from the Zoloft, but I know I punched my boyfriend in the face so hard that I broke my goddamn finger.

And now I am back in that gutter that my mind tends to enjoy living.