the mommy diaries


Favorite Films, 2015

  1. Mommy, dir. Xavier Dolan
  2. Mad Max: Fury Road, dir. George Miller
  3. Girlhood, dir. Céline Sciamma
  4. The Lobster, dir. Yorgos Lanthimos 
  5. Anomalisa, dir. Charlie Kaufman and Duke Johnson
  6. Carol, dir. Todd Haynes
  7. Queen of Earth, dir. Alex Ross Perry
  8. It Follows, dir. David Robert Mitchell
  9. 45 Years, dir. Andrew Haigh
  10. Magic Mike XXL, dir. Gregory Jacobs
  11. The Diary of a Teenage Girl, dir. Marielle Heller
  12. James White, dir. Josh Mond
  13. Tangerine, dir. Sean Baker
  14. A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence, dir. Roy Andersson
  15. Mistress America, dir. Noah Baumbach
  16. Appropriate Behavior, dir. Desiree Akhavan
  17. Nasty Baby, dir. Sebastián Silva
  18. Inside Out, dir. Pete Docter and Ronnie del Carmen
  19. Star Wars: Episode VII - The Force Awakens, dir. J.J. Abrams
  20. The Hateful Eight, dir. Quentin Tarantino
  21. Maps to the Stars, dir. David Cronenberg
  22. Entertainment, dir. Rick Alverson
  23. The Mend, dir. John Magary
  24. Junun, dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
  25. Love, dir. Gaspar Noé

Special Mention to Possibly the Greatest Short Film Ever Made: World of Tomorrow (dir. Don Hertzfeldt)

Honorable Mentions: Amy (dir. Asif Kapadia), Beasts of No Nation (dir. Cary Joji Fukunaga), Clouds of Sils Maria (dir. Olivier Assayas)Creed (dir. Ryan Coogler), The Look of Silence (dir. Joshua Oppenheimer) Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (dir. Alfonso Gomez-Rejon), Reality (dir. Quentin Dupieux), The Revenant (dir. Alejandro González Iñárritu), The Tribe (dir. Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy), and White God (dir. Kornél Mundruczó)

And I don’t know how to tell you this mommy but I’m not that same little girl you birthed and raised. I’m not the same little girl whose hair you braided. I’m not the same little girl you fed with your calloused hands. I’m not the same little girl you love so dearly. I’ve changed from your little angel to this monster I don’t even recognize. I’m sorry for not being what you wanted me to be; I’m sorry that I disappointed you. But I’ll always love you mommy and I hope you can still see in my eyes that you will always be my hero, despite me not being your angel.
—  g.d (the things I would never express to my mom)
Journal #31: Back from the Dead

Okay, Mom said I’m allowed to make one post today and that’s it. Kind of a tall order, considering how much there is to say, but I’ll try to cover everything.

So, uh. I’m currently an inpatient at the Hanna City Medcenter. (Where I was born seventeen years ago, and…where I almost died a few days ago. Funny how that happens.)

I’m here because of physical health problems (I…kind of overdosed on death sticks; more on that later), but also because I have to get some psych tests done. I’m required by law to do them, after what I did to myself, but there’s also another reason for them.

Fannie told my family about Snoke. And then some of you told Fannie about my blog, so she told my parents about that. Mom read the entire thing while I was gone, and basically…my parents know everything now. They know all about the voices, and the nightmares, and…and about Snoke.

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“Darker than the ocean, deeper than the sea..You’ve got everything, you got what I need”

You were right. You are very persuasive.❤️


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+mommy blog (NOT the fetish)
+YA books
+poetry or quotes
+The Vampire Diaries
+The Fosters
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Journal #24: Dear Ben

I don’t know what I expected when I unwrapped the small package, but I didn’t expect what I got. There was a book inside—an old-fashioned book, where the paper is plant-based and easily tearable and smells kind of funny.

“…Thanks, Mom,” I said, not really meaning it, because inside I was thinking What the kriff am I gonna do with this.

But then I opened it and flipped through the pages and discovered the flowing script that poured across the paper in my mother’s hand. High Galactic, not Aurebesh, and written in cursive, too. Basically the most unreadable combination. I had to concentrate, but I made out the first two words:

Dear Ben.

I shuffled through the pages—Dear Ben, Dear Ben, Dear Ben. And I realized it was a book full of letters, all addressed to me.

The first one was dated a year ago. 12.10.21ABY. My sixteenth birthday, the one where I had a wide-awake nightmare, the one where we quit our birthday plans and went home, the one where I couldn’t stop crying because I was fighting the whispers and I must not have slept enough or something—

The letter read:

Dear Ben, it’s your sixteenth birthday, and I love you. I’m so proud of you, even on days like this when you’re probably not too proud of yourself. When I look at you, I see both my little boy and the man you are quickly becoming. Where has all the time gone? I hope you know I will always be there for you, no matter how much we change.

And my heart sank right through my chest and into the floor.

“I know you love words, so I’ve been writing some for you,” she said, her brown eyes warm like a soft ray of sunshine. “I’ve written you something every day for the past year. You’re so special to me, Ben. I want you to know that. And I hope that, when you leave home for the first time, you’ll take this book with you and remember that I love you.”

I couldn’t speak; my throat was clogged up with feelings. And my soul screamed out, I love you more than life itself

Caution, Leader whispered. Too much love is too much pain.

But somehow I just didn’t care.

I flipped to the end of the little book:

Dear Ben, today you’re seventeen. That means I’ve loved you for seventeen years and nine months. I’ve loved you since the beginning; I love you with every breath; I’ll love you till the very end. It seems to me you’re a grownup now, and dealing with grownup things. Baby, I wish you never had to suffer. But everyone does, so the best I can do is promise to share your suffering, if you’ll let me.

And I thought, Oh, Mommy, how I wish that I could.

Journal #37: Something weird happened.

So…I guess Mom and Dad must have had some wine last night, and left the empty bottle on the table. I don’t usually take notice—I know they like to have a drink now and then. But when Kid came downstairs this morning, she took one look at the bottle and ran away. She hasn’t come out of her room since.

She wouldn’t open the door for Mom or Dad, but she let me in. I tried to ask her what was wrong, or what she was so afraid of, but she couldn’t answer. It was like she had forgotten how to talk.

I didn’t ask too many questions, but I snuggled up next to her and took her tiny hand in mine.

Finally she looked at me straight in the eyes and said, “Ben, that bottle on the table…that kind of drink; it makes you hit people.”

I was completely taken aback.

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Journal #28: Presents!!

I swear, having my birthday so close to Life Day is really weird…but also super wizard at the same time. Like, I just got tons of presents a week and a half ago, and now I get more? Anyway.

I gave my presents first. I had written a poem for each person in the family, and so I recited each one in front of everyone as their gifts. Random fact, but I’m actually really good at doing little performances like that. Because then, it’s not Ben who’s talking—it’s the words themselves. The art speaks, and I’m just the voice.

Sorry. You know me, I’m a huge nerd when it comes to poetry.

Chewie and his family gave me a sweater (which will make a fine addition to my collection). Wookiees have a thing about making sure you’re warm enough—humans just look so miserably bald to them. But the sweater…ooh. I love it; it’s sooo soft and puffy and it’s got this beautiful nebula design…

…Again, sorry. You know me. Sweaters… And space.

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