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naz portrait of a موش

"none of these are from the same time period or location. i'm so sorry."

before you ever kissed me, you gave me an engagement ring. you said it might be too old to wear every day; i held it up to the light and hoped for blood poisoning. later in the same night i read up on the symptoms and prayed for a spike in my temperature, but the fever never came. i should've known my body better. i get sick once every three years, or maybe five. i can't remember the last time, and we'll be strangers to each other for the next. today i blew my nose into your black sweater and wished i'd never washed it, which was so silly and trite a wish that it made me laugh. i imagined you in bed chewing on my hair. i put our daughter on your least favorite blanket, the scratchy one, and thought of her crawling on your face.

try and meditate me away.

i like knowing strangers are reading this wondering "what the fuck?" or "where's masochism?" or "why is my algorithm showing me this post at all? i thought i was only following dogs who wear clothes?"

i like knowing you're reading this wishing you'd never met me, or maybe saying "what the fuck, nazanin" to your ceiling. or maybe you expected this, expected worse. i hope one day there's something of me in one of your films, like a bumblebee or a locked diary or a split second cut to a poster of tara reid. i give you permission to white wash me. i give nicole kidman my blessing. i know i promised i'd warn you before i posted your photo, but that was when we were still trying to decide if "axel" was an acceptable name for a kid.

here's something true: axel is a horrible name, and you'll never fuck anyone as hot as me again. i could say the same to myself. i'm sorry for our loss. i'm sorry our daughter will grow up in a single parent household. i'll try my best for her. please send child support.

love and light,