On Thoughtworms and Mother Wounds

It’s in there, burrowed down deep inside like a parasite.

It’s my mother voice, nasal and deep fried and tainted yellow by cigarette smoke snarking

“You see your Hell here on Earth.”

How old do you have to be…

I mean seriously, what the fuck is going on? I honestly thought by the time I reached my 30s I’d be an “adult” and I’d know what everything was and how everything worked. I had always gotten the impression as a child that anyone over the age of 29 was a certified pro in adulting. […]