Marra Makinen

May 1, 2000 - San Diego
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Not my circus, not my monkeys

God, I wish I cared
I so desperately
Wish that I cared about my friend’s breakup
Or my mum’s divorce
Or my not-much-longer friend’s sexual awakening

I feel terrible for not caring
I usually would
But right now
I lack the patience or time
To care or understand their feelings

Just stop being upset about your boyfriend leaving you
He was such a cunt anyways

Mum, he was an entitled and manipulative man
You’re better off without him

Sort-of-friend
Be bi or don’t, either is ok

And I recognise how selfish and unkind that is-
This lack of caring;
I like these people
They have never been wildly unkind to me
But I Just. Don’t. Care.

Maybe I have my own issues and reasons;
Too much for me to juggle even with my own life
So I can’t add your extra flaming torches to the routine.
If I take your shit on,
My hands won’t be able to keep up with the torches-
One by one, the flames around my head will drop
Until I’m only throwing one torch despairingly up-and-down
Up-and-down
Up-and-down
Until I am no longer a spectacle for admiration and bemusement,
But a pity-party,
For people to come and gawk at
And to make themselves feel better at my expense

I cannot carry anymore torches,
For they will either drop
And I will not be able to pick them back up-
Or better yet,
A spark will attach itself to a strand of my brittle hair
And I will once again become a spectacle-
Perhaps still at my expense,
But without your shitty torches to worry about
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