when will i be rescued?
when will i realise i dont need to be rescued?
when will i be content?
when will i have what i want?
when will my thoughts bounce back inspiring me to let them out again?
when will there be a really strong hand to hold the weight of my shapelessness?
when will my new clothes fit me and when will i wear my old ones again?
when will i find direction?
when will i write perfectly and not search for words?
when will i stop trying to allude to strange ridiculous things
digging out archaic words
when will i learn to play guitar?
when will i write my first song?
when will i take a good picture?
when will i be happy with the person i am with?
when will i stop desiring the unattainable?
when will i learn to let go of old loves?
when will i appreciate my present?
when will i think only good thoughts for a whole day?
when will i stop silently obsessing over my skinny legs?
when will i read all the books i tell myself ill read?
when will i have my own house
and children
and grandchildren
and be a wise old woman doling out stories of my crazy wild ridiculous youth
to my grandchildren?
when will my mother be a grandmother?
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