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This is who you’re messing with.
I sat on the bed, head heavy from our smoke, tired. I was always tired these days since i ate close to nothing. Coffee for breakfast, quinoa beat root mushroom salad for lunch and kimchi for dinner or salmon fillet with broccoli for lunch and tomato soup for dinner. Those are two days a specifically remember for some reason.
We are four in the room, the man I love who for some reason i then have yet to figure out why he does not want to be my boyfriend, hes roommate and her friend. The friend is gorgeous. Long blonde hair, cheekbones, perfect symmetric facial features and tiny body. She speaks in a baby voice which makes her appear stupid but sympathetic. She is wearing beige chiffon slacks and a white silk chemise with no bra under it.
I feel ugly in her presence. Everyone is just happy when they’re speaking to her. They glare at her, appreciating every second of her attention. I think i manage to hide my jealousy a bit when the two of us talk about how good the mad max movie from the summer before was. Then i take a nape but don’t fall a sleep completely. In a dim I hear the other three speak.
“What do think about people who discusses politics on the internet? Who comment on other peoples statuses back and forth and try to win arguments. Isn’t that stupid? I mean get a life for christ sake! Don’t they understand how stupid they look doing that?”
The tiny blonde goes on. She sits in the middle of the room in a chair, the other two in the sofa in front of her. She is smug, acts like a fucking queen. I get overwhelmed with shame as soon as she starts this rant. This is probably one of the reasons he don’t want to commit to me. I lye there, listening, taking in every word, only taking comfort in my hunger since that is a sign Im on the right path at least. It was actually a long time since i did that. More than a year. And I’ve removed all my facebook friends that i used to discuss with.
There is heavy tension in the room, the other two does not say anything. But she goes on. “What would you do if you knew someone who did this, who was friends with someone like that or even together with one of them?!” The smugness in her voice is replaced with frustration, like she wants me to answer her.
Silence. Then I hear him ask her, carefully in lowered voice
“what do you think one should do?”
“Tell them to stop! Or better, brake up with them! Stop seeing them!”
Bitch. I am too embarrassed to sit upp and tell her off. I keep pretending to sleep, tense, fighting anxiety. I just want to forget it ever happened.
But she wont let me. An hour later or so we are all gathered in the kitchen. More people have arrived at the apartment and we are standing around drinking cheap wine as she addresses the topic again, this time turning directly to me.
“What do you think about people who discusses politics on facebook? Aren’t they.... Lame?” The smugness back and it’s smearing all over her face.
I sigh quietly, put down my glass on the counter before starring right at her, into her eyes, determined to bring the bitch down with style and grace.
“No i don’t have a problem with people discussing the future of the society that we are all affected by. However, i do have a problem with people who can’t confront properly and tell directly to me when they have a problem or questions about something I’ve done” The smugness wiped off in an instant. Everyone is just starring, shocked, looking for answers in each others faces. They haven’t seen this side of me yet and they’ve “known” me for months.
“I do follow politics and have been active for two years. It has been an interest of mine since i was 13, why wouldn’t I discuss it with other people? It is healthy to challenge your believes so you don’t get stuck in the same thoughts. Thats allowing yourself to evolve. If you had actually read anything we discussed or understood it you would know, that I know how to tell a bitch to sit the fuck down and stop weeping” I am in control, everyone else is not. I tell her all of this calmly, without breaking eye contact. My voice rises gradually during the speech and ends on a perfect pitch.
She stands and stare with her mouth open. Then actually sitting down. Her lips start to shake a bit. She looks down at her feet. I look around and notice that everyone is angry with me. was I too harsh? That was nothing! I spared her!
“How did you know I ment you?” “What do you think Im stupid?! I heard you before, You wanted me to hear you. But I thought I’d let it slide since I don’t know you and don’t care about your opinion. But now your’e trying to humiliate me in front of everyone, forcing me to defend something i did two years ago? Why be mean to me? what have i done?” I try to win over the crowd, make them understand that I’m the victim, not her. Just because she is crying don’t mean the deserves compassion.
“But now YOU are being mean to ME! You try to humiliate me!” “No....” I get irritated and I explain as if to a child “I was defending myself after you purposely offended me. When you give shit you have the be prepared to get shit.”
She looks up, straight at, some new kind of confidence. “ EVERYONE in this room has done a lot worse to you and you did nothing about them! They didn’t get any shit.”
Now I’m startled. I have no clue what she is talking about. But I have to remain cool.
“Well, I let you wait for an hour, maybe I’ll let them wait for weeks.”
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He was my toy, I was his jewelry
I think it was two weeks into the new year and it had been more than two years since I had a boyfriend. I was ready for love but pessimistic.
“I feel like fucking a forty year old tonight” I told my friend as we sat down in a local brittish theamed bar. “ I want him to be divorced, in an existential crisis and I want him to feel guilt over not seeing children enough. I want him to feel guilty over my young age as he realizes he wont be able to resist his urges”
I looked around as a removed my jacket. There where several potential victims. I pouched my cleavage as much as possible, sat down and tried to make eye contact with any of them. I failed. They where not interested. So we drank up and got away to another bar.
A sports bar down town. The lighting was bad, the music terrible and the people ordinary. But it was cheap. we sat down at a table with people from school. I started talking to an old classmate who had changed course and studied to become an artist. In my backpack i had the most beautiful graphic biography that i showed him. Then out of nowhere he came. He Asked us what we where talking about nad when i looked up he looked straight into my eyes. No hesitation. I was struck. There was no visible weakness, no insecurities. I wanted that. Not just him, but what he had, i wanted to learn that.
I became his jewelry. Not an obvious one, not a sparkly, in everyones faces beautiful jewelry. To some of his friends I was a piece of trash around his neck, to others I was exciting, something new and different. Another take on things. seemingly pretty ordinary but with a twist. But in both cases I made him look better. To some of his friends he became a compassionate healer who sacrificed himself and took this smelly creature under his wings. To the others he became an excellent treasure hunter, who managed to find beauty in the dirt.
But to me he was a toy. A speciell toy, like a rubiks cube. My game with him was exploring, watching, smelling,tasting, studying, learning. I had fun doing it. And the joy gave me a special glow. It was so obvious that I had found something. Even those who couldn’t see it in him knew that it was there, I had it written all over me. What I had found was what everyone was looking for. I was happy.
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This will be my platform
Since i don’t have money to print my story at the library and sell it as a fanzine I will write it here.
My story is a story to good to be true. I started writing it to clean my name, or at least make my self a human instead of a character. But now i will write it as an attempt to make someone, anyone come through and confirm it.
I don´t know how long it will take to confirm to myself that I’m out of this world schizo, crazy and a danger to myself and others. But i choose a pack of cigarettes a week over one visit to some shitty therapist who only tells me to calm down and focus on work (does he even understand that he is totally unqualified for me? This is serious!).
This story is one of a kind. No one will ever be able to tell whats more insane, that it actually happened or that a human brain could just come up with it from nowhere, in the happiest time of their oh so tragic life.
The story will be told slowly. One small memory sequence each day that might not seem to matter when read separately. Every now and then there will be a bomb drop that ties the knots together.
this is a story about a girl who grew up to become a woman who wanted to be good. About vicious children or ordinary people who would not let her leave her past. No one should go unnoticed about the disgusting creature that woman was when she thought no one was watching.
By reading this story you will learn what is like to make mistakes around people without empathy.
Enjoy.
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Things that really affected my life, I think #1 : Fuck up
I used to lose my keys, a lot.
I was in my early teens around 14-15. I lost them in the school library so many times my librarian got used to it and always took care of them whenever she saw them.
Sometimes i forgot the keys to the common laundry room and we would have to ask the neighbors for theirs and apologize for the inconvenience and i always felt that my mom wanted me to feel ashamed and i did because i knew what was coming.
She would always yell at me, “ why, WHY do you always lose the keys youcanneverkeeptrackofanythingwhatareyouevengoingtodowithyourlife?!”
And the only answer i could think of was “I’m sorry mom, i’ve just been smoking every morning, lunch and night time the past 3 weeks and it’s making my head kinda spacey”
But she wouldn’t believe that. I’ve always been like this. When i was little used to always lose my wallet.
So she just kept on coming till finally, the standard phrase.
“You are just like your father, never think of anyone else, always expecting someone else to do things for you!!!”
It was over and i could walk away and smile and think that at least I’m not like you.
But then my sister told me that the reason me and mom was fighting so much was that we where so similar. I got scared. Maybe it was true. Maybe, we where two neurotic, hotheaded bitches with the only exception she used to be successful and I was never going to be.
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My sweetheart keep me in bed and away from the fridge. I'm starving
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Directed by Janicza Bravo
So talented. hope to see much more from her.
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