I don't know what I'm doing

"your face could kill a cat". thanks "you have the nose of a deformed beaked bird". we have the same nose "you look dead on your feet". im not even standing "you rim your eyes too dark it makes you look like a corpse". good "you look exactly like your dear mother". too far. prepare to die

living as a slave within the lavish walls of ones childhood home came with hardships one could assume they came with. living was too gracious a word for the intolerable misery i was subjected to on the daily; hearing aegisthus talk about anything. especially clytemnestra.

the last meal i shared at the table with the traitors who called themselves my family i inhaled the minimum amount that qualified as a mean as to get over and done with when the accursed so called man of the house said something so heinous i gagged until i vomited. i made sure i got some all over him and his own plate in the commotion. my only regret was not eating more.

chrysothemis for the most part kept out of the way and wore a polite smile near constantly. it was sickening. i am not a threat she seemed to signal. leave me out of this. in some ways i could respect it but for as long as i lived under this roof she too was an enemy. i knew she reported everything back to mother dearest. i also knew that she turned the other way when she saw me and occupied herself with the ceiling or floor till i left the room. two faced creature. how i loathed her.

what was the value of peace when it came at the expense of pain? was it not more noble to be in misery but true to oneself than happy and a fraud?

i suppose you either died holding onto whats dear to you or lived long enough to resent it. iphigenia comes to mind. i put the thought away nearly immediately. i was too sober for this.

the whore walked in. wonderful now i could have a hangover without the alcohol. she looked me up and down and so innocently asked "why do you enjoy humiliating yourself so? i have no idea where you get it from". liars should get their tongues cut off mother.

i didnt bother to get up from the floor where i was half sprawled. truth be told i probably couldnt if i wanted to, my heels were killing me but more than that the queen didnt deserve a modicum of respect or recognition. not by me at least. she could go cry about her daughters insolence to the inbred imbecile she defiled her marital bed with. at least she never got pregnant.

i put that thought away before i vomited at her feet. i wish i could but i hadnt eaten in three days. could i vomit bile if i tried hard enough? a very beautiful vision of a reviled clytemnestra covered in in my filth was shattered by her sharp announcement that i was to be married.

she said it like she was doing me a favour. which now that i thought of it she probably did. of course she would see herself as the compassionate mother, begging for a daughters life and succeeding in saving her from a certain death. something she failed to do the first time around.

aegisthus was, despite being very very irritating, decidedly not stupid. power got into his head very quickly, probably on account of finding next to nothing in that skull of his beside whatever lies clytemnestra had fed him. or so i thought till now.

After almost a decade on this site, I found another Tumblr user in the wild. I stopped to tie my shoe with rainbow laces this morning outside the silversmith at Colonial Williamsburg, and I heard it.

“I like your shoelaces.”

Oh. Oh no.

I responded the only way I could. “Thanks.” And then I reluctantly added, “I stole them from the president…and if that makes sense to you, I’m very sorry.”

The poor man, in full Colonial dress, stared at me for a long moment. And then burst into laughter. And said, “I haven’t thought about that in YEARS and this has never happened to me before.”

Yeah. Me neither. Not until today.

"you could be a cool old person (like one of them that all the teens look up to and is enjoyable to be around)"

-anonymous