Giant feet and smelly farts

You claw away at my darkness, always trying to let the light glimmer in. I’m encased, suffocated by my own anguish, my tomb of horrors, but you smile, warmth melting away at the ice, the anger boiling inside. Your love confuses me. Your love vanquishes, if only just for a moment, my seething self-hatred. Quietly, you’ve kept me from falling. You balance out this ugliness inside me. Those stupid remarks, your constant guitar/computer bable, your smelly dumps that make our whole apartment smell like a combination of farts and death, and giant man-baby feet. Yes, you have giant, overgrown, baby feet. I swear, I think it’s hilarious. You make me giggle even when I’m a face full of snot and salty tears. And you clean up the cat puke, despite not cleaning much else. Don’t you ever go away. I need you more than you know. You make me love you when all I want to do is hate you, and blame you more. I heart you, Jib-Jabs. —Yes, I Know, I Bought That Stupid Ceramic Fish

This article appears in Dec 15-21, 2011.