Spirit in the Sky

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You look like you just found out that Santa isn’t real, the old lady said to me from her plush, queen-sized bed.

I was only supposed to be cooking meals, helping her eat and take her medicine, not give her a sponge bath and transfer her to a toilet-chair. I didn’t have the training to be a home health aide, the job I applied for was a helper/companion.

I had been mislead and lied to. I would report the agency the next day.

I will never forget this woman, who was 93, quite frail and basically dying. Her rich son was across the country doing his thing, while she festered away with inadequate caregivers.

Imagine her anger, the fear that she must have had. She had nothing good to say about him, complaining to me while I did my best to wash her rail-thin body.

Afterward, I took her vein-ridden hand and sincerely apologized for my lack of knowledge.

It isn’t your fault, at least you care, she said. Most of these girls who come into my home are rude and treat me like dirt.

She looked away and I saw tears in her milky blue eyes.


It’s official now, my entire family is aware that my mom is not getting any better, but instead worse. My guess is that this is her last holiday season.

I’m in auto-bot mode, just doing what I can to make her life more bearable. I’ll worry about myself afterwards.


I don’t believe in Santa.

If I was able to see that 93-year-old woman again, I’d tell her that grief is the consequence of love and that the people in our lives are not infallible. We trust the wrong individuals, relationships can be broken in just 2 seconds and in the end, the only person we truly have in this lifetime is ourselves.

I would also tell her what a complete piece of shit her son is for leaving her alone with strangers like he did while she lay dying in her condo.

I’d also thank her for the experience, because I would never fucking do that to my mom. I’ll be there with her until she leaves this place for the spirit in the sky.

I’m Abby & I’m Not Normal

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It’s that sound of my roommate snoring that makes me want to take my pillow and push it up against her innocently sleeping face, but I don’t move from my perch on my own cheap mattress pad. If being locked up in a modern-day asylum for the crazies is beyond dreadful, imagine how bad being put away in a woman’s only prison for murder would be.

I just stare at the ceiling, listening to her nose whistling, in and out, my eyes closed. The smell of her is pungent and is almost comforting in a sick way, but then again, I am sick.

I shouldn’t be so cruel to the poor woman, she’s more alone in this world than even I am, but I just cannot find any empathy for her. She follows me around the place like a scared puppy dog and instead of allowing her the refuge that my kindness would give her, instead I scowl and give her looks of evilness.

Leave me the mother fuck alone, you nutcase bitch!!!

I am also a nutcase bitch and I have nothing left for anyone, especially not you.


My beloved, the man who I’ve put all of my love into for years, has betrayed me. I want to tell everyone inside this dank building, where the food is tasteless and the hours crawl by slower than the baby ants carrying cracker crumbs back from the Sunday church picnic.

Listen, I know that he doesn’t love me anymore, that he doesn’t want me! I have driven him away with my mental illnesses, by my not being a normal girl, not giving him enough blow-jobs and letting him cum on my titties! As we speak, he’s out there fucking another woman, I just know it.

I don’t have proof, but I know that something inside of him has switched from caring about what happens to Abby to only caring about his cock.

I swallow back my tears and take my medications like the good little puppet that I am. If I lose my sanity in this God forsaken place, they’ll keep me in here forever. I smile falsely when the shrinks ask me how I’m feeling. Oh, just fine doctor, I am feeling as stable and as normal as I can given that my entire life is going to fucking hell in the same garbage can where I vomited up all of those pills.

I failed at killing myself, they let me down just like my old man has.


The newest resident of the crazy-barn wants me to braid her dirty, disgusting hair and since she seems the type that would kick my ass if I didn’t follow her orders, I comply without complaint.

It’s like opening my mouth when a man wants me to suck him off.

Her nasty brown hair feels like grease and smells like open ass, but I braid the holy fuck out of it because if I don’t, she’ll become my enemy. Life in the mental ward is difficult enough as it is, so I really don’t want to piss off the alpha female.

“Nice job, although it could be a little tighter, she says. The other ladies of the manor are staring at me, waiting for my response.

A bit of my inner angry bitch sneaks out.

Hey, I say, I told you that I wasn’t all that great at doing hair.

She laughs and looks away. I silently berate myself for being so careless with my attitude, but the c-rag inside is quite pleased.


You’re going to miss lunch, I hear the nurse tell me from the doorway of my sparse accommodations.

I’m not hungry, I mutter back from under my blanket. Your food is just awful.

She makes a disapproving sound with her tongue and walks away, logging it into her little notebook.

If I keep losing weight, maybe my man gone astray will change his mind and love me again.

If I really desired, I could hook-up with the male night nurse. I can tell that he’s interested by the way he looks at me when he gives me my pills at 2 in the morning.

I don’t pursue it, although I regret that decision now.

 

ABBY’S NOT NORMAL

10/18/18

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