a new poem I wrote! Excuse the mild language…sometimes there just aren’t synonyms.
A guy once told me I was too ‘moody.’
He said, you have mood swings and I just..can’t…handle it.
I didn’t say anything, I just looked at this guy I thought I knew, I looked at his
green eyes and the way they flitted to every place in the room that wasn’t me
and I said to him, You obviously don’t know women very well.
I said moody is just a cousin of normalcy, it is natural, my emotions twisted around
my too big heart that no longer has room for little boys who are too afraid to handle
a minute of crying because hell yes, I feel like shit today
or an hour of a glare because hell NO you shouldn’t have called me that name,
and I’m sorry if that constitutes as moody sir
but I think I’m entitled to a little mood now and again because you took the easy way out and I’m a fighter-soldier-I stand my ground and you crawl in the trenches
over and over and over again.
I said moody?
You think you know me well enough to decide if I’m being moody?
I said don’t mistake moodiness for the patterns of life,
Don’t mistake mood swings with being alive,
I said you’ve just severely pissed me off.
I’ve wasted energy on you, man,
I’ve wasted minutes of my days in my months where I’ve let trust intermingle with risk,
Where I thought falling for you was a gift instead of a misstep,
Where I thought you manipulating me into thinking I was the crazy one, I wasn’t made for this role was just a natural thing in a relationship, I thought all men were just kind of a bit of little here and there once in awhile assholes.
I said, I challenge you then
I challenge you to go out in the real world and find a woman who doesn’t go through what you have so condescendingly labeled as ‘mood swings.’
Go out there and find a woman who doesn’t have tear ducts or doesn’t know how to use them,
Go out there and find a woman that never wants to punch a mirror.
That never regrets the second after she ate that oh my gosh it looked so good brownie but now I just feel it sticking to every corner of my ribcage,
Go out there and find a woman who doesn’t have vocal chords,
who doesn’t have a voice and doesn’t know how to use it,
who isn’t sometimes loud sometimes wrong sometimes makes mistakes,
belittling myself to settle for a second-rate version of a guy (because man isn’t a word for you)
is definitely a mistake.