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Writer's pictureBloomfield College Underground

'I Love You, but. . .' by Alicia Cobena

I Love You, but...


Don’t expect my sweet side all the time.

You think I’ll continue to allow your moodiness because of the mood you are in?

All due to a bad day at work or at school?

And I’m a robot. I feel nothing.

I’m ping pong table. Destress yourself onto me.

Wrong! I’m a menstrualated emotional abomination with a deep urge to eat chocolate. And when I’m not, I am mostly happy, kind and considerate. So consider this, I don’t care how froggy your feeling, leap on all the lily pads you want, but stay off of each other’s and mine!


I love you, but Princess, ask those random questions about why eggs won’t crack from the top of the shell to Google. I’m not a robot with all the magic sauce. I don’t know what the lyrics are to that song. I don’t know why your father is always cranky, just ask Google.


I love you, but little handsome boy of mine, dress your own body.

Feed your own mouth. Tie your own laces.

And there is something called a garbage can where garbage goes.

Not on the floor or the couch in each fold.


I love you, my gnomes but eat at home, not in my four-door.

Food, snacks, candy, ice cream, waffles with syrup equals your dirty-nasty-cute-little-sticky-licking fingers on my seats,

door handles, and wrappers; Everywhere.

So if you’re hungry, drink water.


I love you, my love but you blindly see past me

while I sweep past you, cleaning every room...

Every spill, every dish, laundry bag, laundry list,

laundry sucks, still I do it.


Then organize those clothes, cook every meal, shop for the fridge, for the kids, our home, decorate, regularly re-arrange furniture

to assure the feng shui is on fleek

AND all I ask is that

you

wash

your

own

fork!!


I love you, famzz but that’s the recycling bin! It says plastic on it!!

“Why do I want to recycle now, even though we’ve never done it

or never had to before? “

It’s eco-friendly.

Why do you think?

Not to add more work than already is.


I love you, guy...but whyyyyyy are your questions so redundant, ridiculous, and enragingly rude?


You see that I’m working on a ground-breaking algebraic related equation that is making me sweat without me even having to move a muscle, how the fuck is it that you want me to tell the Optimum lady on the phone that she has permission to talk to you when I initially intentionally didn’t pay for the bill so that you would have no TV to watch, get bored and lift your white collared finger in the house. I wouldn’t tell you all that before calling the cable-lady because as you see, I am focused on working out this mathematics complication, which in my opinion, requires some cold-one

type of medication

and even though you see this all,

you're still trying to break my fucking

concentration!?!


I love you, but stop snoring.

Stop snoring or go to the couch.


I love you, but quit being cheap and put gas in my car.

With my part-time job, fulltime mother certification and fulltime studentship, I think I deserve a family/company gas card.

I drop off our kids, go to work, go to class, pick up our kids,

plus everything else I do in between.

Not to mention weekend family outings

and errand runs are all done in My car.

So if by chance, you hop in and it’s low,

don’t turn to me and say—

“You didn’t put gas?!”

WTF, Obviously not.


I love you, but please accept, acknowledge, and appreciate

Because to leave you all

for a day

without me

would be great

... but, I love you

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