Chinese Cigarettes
Do you wanna know where I’ve been? Sick and itchy. Then working till I pass out. Now I’m just itchy.
I moved to the worst city in the world; it is becoming insufferable. “This city is eating itself,” Batman says. Walking down the crowded street - it’s nauseating. How many nobodies make a somebody? The answer is the population of New York.
When I walk past a man asking for money, I imagine he will throw a knife into my back as soon as I’m far enough away to think, “man, I am so glad I didn’t get assaulted for saying I don’t have any money.” I don’t blame them for assaulting me; if I was destitute, I would assault the world.
I am not entirely destitute, though. Just like I’m not entirely sane.
Working in an office more than I look at trees has altered my tolerance for anything unseemly. I have encountered many bad days; so many that I’ve resolved to undergo some type of lobotomy that will make me The Best Employee Ever.
I hope that by cutting open my brain, I won’t ever have to think about the implications of typing on a computer. I will never again have to deal with people’s perception of my place in society or how I fare in the Oppression Olympics.
A lot of people believe they are really oppressed for some stupid reason - like how they can’t get a job doing nothing for 100k, or that they can get the 100k nothing job, but then they feel “unfulfilled” or something.
These are not the reasons you should feel oppressed. You should feel oppressed because you have a phone in your hand right now that you are reading this from in an effort to understand, judge, or hate other boring people. You are reading from a tiny screen and after reading from a tiny screen you will look up, see your life, and go right back to that sad and tiny screen.
If I sound like a boomer, it’s because they got it right. No amount of words we type will reverse the damage they first unleashed. It’s better to sit down, shut up, and wonder why we can’t make good quality media or binary genders anymore!
I’m joking. That’s a joke. Like when I had to recall my first ever relationship. He decided he wanted to DJ in a strip club, and I thought it was misogynistic for me to, like, hate that. So then he started messaging all these strippers all the time and when I found out I had to be like: yes queen, yes.
Somebody asked me if he abused me and I was like no, because he was a pussy. Then she was like, do you think he’s on drugs now? And I was like, again, he is a pussy. Drugs are for the brave men and women who commit to spiraling out, like my beautiful cousin.
On our street, there was this house that blew up. A gas line exploded, but my cousin argued that it was actually a nuclear explosion. She was yelling at her mom and her dad and I was sitting on the couch, looking up the stairs where her form was peaking through. I stared at the way her mouth stayed open long after she stopped speaking.
At work, my boss asked me something I didn’t quite hear. I yelled “HUH?!?!” way too loud and I saw him flinch, then laugh. I felt dizzy. My cousin always said “HUH?!?!” when she was little because she couldn’t hear anything and she needed tubes in her ears. It’s sick that you have all this knowledge, an entire life inside of you, but every day people just see your face and hear your small words and then they make something of you - but it’s not what you are.
I was made in the image of God, but somehow I’m only this bent over, tired girl-servant. They don’t even mention girls in the bible, unfortunately.
More wine, sir? More labor, sir? More of my time, sir? My therapist told me my time is “valuable,” even though everybody is treating it as if it is refundable. Like I can be this servant-girl for everyone forever and ever, amen.
I wanted to title this piece Magnum Opus; I haven’t been able to write because I’m not yearning for love or for friendship or for stardom, I am just so depressed I come off as someone who doesn’t have hobbies or investments or ideas. I thought this could be my magnum opus.
But then I went to an event where everybody was so “cool.” Ivy Wolk was going to read something after we all smoked a lot of cigarettes and as I was sitting there, listening, I thought: I’ve got something to say again.
