I thought of it once
she said
i paused swallowed my incendiary pride
what if this thought became a reality? morphed and jumbled to this nugget of possibility and willing to manifest itself in reality, no longer a passing dream.
it would be pitiful i tell you
“on a rainy day in A-town a woman swallows detergent with the morning tea, later she dies while making sandwitches for the kids, who huddle around her in an attempt to make it un-happen.”
the newspaper would read.
I would be a celebrity, yet pitiful one.
i tell you
the attention would be mine, i thought. Pitiful.
I exclaimed: “what is that supposed to mean? what kind of mom tells her children that she thought of committing suicide? what kind of effect will that have on us?”
my response is layered with pride, selfishness and repugnant hate.
What a pity.
AICHA BINT YUSIF 