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Exasperation (A letter to Lockjaw)
by Angela ThomasOh, Lockjaw,
I sat down today and found myself in a different skin than the one that I have been living with for all these years. My fat and stretched skin is being replaced, Lockjaw. This skin is taught and obviously filled with bones that protrude from it. And I am suddenly being called beautiful, and admired for more than my face, and the things that it says.
Still, Lockjaw, sometimes I wish that things were easier. I wish that people didn't abuse the look of pain in my eyes. I wish that they couldn't see it. Maybe if I was totally aloof then people wouldn't try to step all over me cause they wouldn't know that my face spells out "doormat."
And then, as soon as my problems coming to surface, I surface my lips and my liver in a glass filled with a hard panacea. I'm sick of crawling into drugs and bottles trying to hide from the things that scare me. I should have realized sooner that glass is see-through. I'm quitting, Lockjaw. Half a bottle of Southern Comfort, maybe a shot left of Vodka, and the game will go on without me.
I don't want anyone in my bed. I like it better cold. At least then I know why I'm shivering and crying. So, Lockjaw, I'm quitting that too. I'm such an addict, it really took me by suprise last night while I rocked under a table, my head filled with poison, seeing things that didn't even exist. How ungrateful have I been for my life that I play russian roulette with it all day?
I'm all grown up, Lockjaw. There's no more Mommy to run to and hide under her skirt, it's time for me to face the things that have been chasing me. And when I'm through seeing eye to eye, mine will have been replaced with experience, no longer full of opportunity and naivety. Take me home and tuck me in, Lockjaw, because no one does that, no one ever has, and no one probably will.
With resolve and a hard stare,
Love,
Angela 07/23/2004 Posted on 07/23/2004
Copyright © 2025 Angela Thomas
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