inkskinned:

she snorts down her nose. “what, I’m going to drink enough water i’ll suddenly be cured?” she waves her fingers like: magic. we sit on a clover patch.

but the stupid shit helps. i look down at the pond where all those dumbass beautiful fish are swimming and i don’t know how to say it, so i just start talking. “it’s like this,” i say. i hold up my Flower Power it-was-on-clearance water bottle. “i carry this bullshit around with my everywhere.” i jiggle it. “it’s fucking heavy. half the time i put it into my passenger seat and forget about it. whenever i get thirsty while driving i lament my hubris for not having some kind of really long straw.”

a fish flashes in the water. orange and bigger than my arm. “it’s fucking stupid,” i say, “i started doing it because it was supposed to be good for my skin.” i gesture to my face. “it’s been years and results are slim.”

she picks at a leaf. “i think you’re pretty,” she says.

i kind of lose the ability to speak for a second, but i was on a roll, and if i don’t finish what i was saying i’ll explode or else never bring it up again. “it’s … something i did just to take care of myself. and that… you know, dumb-as-shit faux-self-care was also… real self care.” i find a clover and rip it up and start to mumble because the words could kill me. they’re sharp enough. “every time i felt like i wasted a day in bed or did nothing or it was just… a bad, bad day…” i hold up the water bottle, “i could tell myself well at least we fucking drank the goddamn water.”

i throw the clover scraps at the fish with my free hand. the green pieces all float down gently and get fish-lip kissed. “and, you know. that helped. that idea that even when i dropped the ball i was still kind of playing.” deep breath. put down the bottle. “and one thing became two things. i told myself if i could carry around this fucking thing, i could also convince myself to carry a lunchbox so i actually got semi-close to three meals. who cares that all three meals were three-day-old leftovers or just three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

i don’t want to look at her because i feel dumb saying all this fake-deep stuff, but at the same time i know she’s looking at me, so i sneak a peek. she’s got her head resting on her pulled-up knees. arms curled around her body and a look i can’t pick apart. more complicated than a clover leaf. 

i go back to pulling at harmless grass which has never done anything to deserve the likes of me. “and, just, you know. if i can meal prep, i can go to the gym. if i can work out, i can adjust my sleep. if i can sleep, blah blah blah.” i run my hand through my hair. “and … i still have bad days. but on those days…. i drink my fucking water.”