All the Right Moves -- OneRepublic

When Anna-Lee was about two, maybe three, Mom was keeping her so I could have a break, as I was in college.

One day, Mom was smearing some kind of anti-aging cream on her face and Anna-Lee asked her why on earth was she putting that stuff on her face.

"It makes your wrinkles go away," was her response.

Anna-Lee walks over to her as she's putting the lid back on, takes the small container from her and throws it into the garbage and says, "Well. It's not working."

Everyone wants me to tell a good story, well, I'm not going to tell another one, that one's pretty damn good. What I will say is this:

Go ahead, fucking judge me. Talk about me behind my back, if you like, I no longer have the capacity to care. And just fyi I know the way people look at you when they're thinking something snide, I can see it in their faces that split second before they regain control of their facial expressions. Believe me, I know exactly how it's done.

The thing is, I do care. I want people to like me, I want people to know that I'm a good person. I wish I could yell at everybody and say, my Mom is fucking dead and two years after the fact I totally lost my shit. I can't go back and change those facts, but I sure as hell can change how things are going to go in the future.

Someone I am acquainted with, their nephew took his own life at their house. I didn't know that until they had confided that to my husband. He, in turn, told them that we had both lost our mothers recently and many other important people in our lives as well. Now every time I see them they wave at me and are very friendly.

Why? Why now? What difference does it make that we are grieving over here, so now you'll be friendly because you know a little of our plight?

Fuck off. Not really, I will be kind and friendly to them, but holy shitballs, I'd like to say--Am I only worthy of your attention and kindness because we have revealed to you our deepest, darkest secrets? The reason why we're always so seemingly glum. It doesn't matter, not really, how others treat me.

All I know is that I face every person I see every day with a kind smile because I am always thinking that no matter how difficult my day, my week, my year...my life...has been and what I have overcome, someone else out there is having a much shittier time than I am, and for goodness sake give someone a smile or a helping hand.

I'm not going to be like you. I'm not even going to be what you'd like me to be.

I'm gonna keep on keepin' on, just being me, because I really don't give a fuck what you think. And if that bothers you, keep on moving 'cause I definitely don't have time for bullshit when there's shit to do with my family.

Also: I'm busting my ass getting these girls to dance lessons and after-school activities, I'm trying to get a job, on top of all the other things that go with being a Mom. And just...just...FUCK YOUR COUCH.

PS Mom liked rum and cokes or MGD. God bless.