tuckova

you are a forest of wonder but when somebody wanders through, you feel
hurt if they fail to see every single tree. you who have never bothered
to name things scream beech pine fir needles stump! and they say it is
nice to be in the forest, with the dappled light and the quiet, it is
so peaceful, and your fingers jab at their stupid ears that have missed
specific birdsong.

you make dinner and when they eat it they are thinking of your
fingers in their mouths, nurture and exploration, and your head
explodes because excuse me i have to do the dishes too. you would like
to be evaluated for who you are but you get upset if someone fails to notice what you do.

you are made of your actions, each action a playing card
carefully balanced to build a house that is structurally sound and
visually pleasing, and with your sense of humor you’ve balanced the
jack of hearts against the seven of cups but not everyone is such a
connoisseur. another word for connoisseur is snob. you alert them to your
pinch of cinnamon and they say mmm and you’re angry for the cinnamon
not being acknowledged, and they’re confounded because what do you
want, are they not eating, contentedly rubbing their bellies, catlike
stretched to bask in the wonder of being full of things you made that
they can’t be bothered to name. another word for can’t be bothered is lazy.

it is hard to understand that people can be happy without being
able to name their happiness but then you cried for three straight
hours and couldn’t say why so don’t get too high on the horse is all
i’m saying. it’s quite a fall from a horse. more than a tumble in the
hay. it is hard to not be pissed at the blind person who doesn’t see
what a good colorer you are. it is hard to remember that you decided to
color inside the lines because it pleases you; it is hard to remember
that they are your lines. there are people who draw freehand.

i
don’t mean you’re wrong. for the love of all things sweet don’t start
crying again. i mean that you don’t look at a picasso and say nice use
of blue. well, you might say
that. other people are saying words like form, fluid movement, abyss of
pain. naturally ideally one could say all those things. i mean: there
are things that are wrong and there are things that cannot be fixed and
you would do well to keep your forest lovely because it’s in your
nature, to balance the cards because it feels like success, to color
within the lines because it pleases you, and to maybe stop talking
about art and just look at it. you can spend enough energy keeping
control over the things you actually can, make your charts and lists
and rationales, stock up on tissues, live through this. but not if you
try to blame it on other people.