I wanted to write about something, but I remembered that tomorrow I had a gynecological appointment before school, then a psychologist, then fencing, and that if I left work early -with luck- I should call fertility. Yes, that woman who compared my eggs to oranges and made me feel like my body could be an orange tree.
I wanted to write about something, but I forgot. I had to sew my little son's shirt, prepare his recess sandwich, endure his scream against the math teacher again, make a new appointment with the dentist, and call the telephone company to stop charging for a disused telephone at my parents' house.
I wanted to write about something. I suffered a lapse. After the nightmare, I doubted whether to take more melatonin. I had a horrible nightmare in which he was sleeping with another woman and I had a fever. I had dreamed that he was lying to me about everything. Once I remember wanting to write about that, but I had already accumulated too many demons, so my life became a prolonged and prolonged lapse...
I wanted to write about something, but Mom was having a strange day and Betty couldn't go home. None of my brothers could take care of Mom because they were at work.
Very important jobs. They almost always wore a tie.
I wanted to write about something, but he kept calling me and I couldn't concentrate.
He seemed excited to tell me about his many new projects, his salary increase, or his new job. I barely had hands to pick up the phone.
I wanted to write something, but I started crying with impotence when I saw my bank account and thought I couldn't freeze eggs. Then, I wrote a poem about a fictional girl who was born from an ATM. Much easier than childbirth and tremendously horrible and capitalist. A girl who would live in an atrocious system and a continuous crisis. Luckily, the girl was very beautiful and cheerful, and had a small red beret. Maybe it was a sign of protest.
I wanted to write about something, but I realized that I had to get up at 6 in the morning and that I would need 365 more days than him. More than them.