The End of Writing As Usual

You know what I was thinking tonight, this night, with my Word file open, my heart just edgy, just that edgy double beat not sure it's mine weird jumpety jumpety heart feeling in my chest, is this: You know the poetry book I did, over there on the sidebar, no not the first one, the second one, well that was an incredibly fucking brave thing I did, and if live to be 43 in nine days, or if I live to be 99 in some number of days I'm not prepared to count right now, that will still be me, coming online, walking right out here with ya'll, right in the fucking middle of the Internet, not like I didn't know what I was doing, not like I didn't have people out here who could cut me with my own words, and being one brave motherfucker.

And you know what I want to tell you Jenna, one day when you read this stuff? I want to tell you that this is your mom's voice, baby. And it's me showing -- in the only way I know -- how to give your voice permission, how to open your heart and scream until your throat bleeds, to wail and pound your fists, to sing the tapestry of pain backward across generations.

And you know what most of all?

I love you, my Jenna Bean.