*In my youth (lol) I was, precocious. Not promiscuous, but precocious. I preferred older men because they felt familiar surely because of my abuse. It’s typical. Gross, but typical. So I dated my boss and had a weird emotional affair with a man double my age. Nothing ever came of them except a sick realization of my patterns. I thank them for reminding me that I deserved better. A soundtrack ruled my life as soon as I finished watching the movie. Lost in Translation was one of those movies that spoke to parts of me that sat stagnant. A flower right before the bloom. A glimpse into what could be and what I wanted so badly to NOT be. The whole soundtrack deflowered me, but two songs in particular, “Tommib,” by Squarepusher and “Girls,” by Death in Vegas set a tone that always takes me back to that time in my life when I was making stupid mistakes but incorporating the lessons.
They weren’t daddy issues,
but think what you want—
it’s easier than trying to convince
you that what I’m doing is trying to dilute
trying to erase,
and maybe assassinate
the many men who tried to,
who succeeded in reminding me
that plagues make you lose communication to yourself,
that it wasn’t love,
it was hate disguised as barbaric affection
you wouldn’t know the difference,
if it’s warm
it’s good enough.