I wake up to “Good Morning lover!”
I hold my head in my hands.
I kiss my cat.
I take my meds.
Again the sun turns ‘round.
I lick my teeth.
I eat my breakfast.
I think of godless things, as all things should be.
If there was a god – if there is a god –
I will look at them and spit in their eye.
Send me to hell, fucker, we’re already in it.
How dare you do this to us?
Scapegoats are easy to digest; I want something simple to chew on.
Wouldn’t it be so much nicer if our prayers actually mattered?
I eat my lunch to “Have a great afternoon sweetheart!”
I think of killing myself.
I think of shooting myself.
I think of stabbing myself.
I get a text from my mom. I get another text from my partner. My cat flops onto the dinner table next to my sandwich. My friend wants to know if we can get pedicures together soon.
They all try so hard.
I put off killing myself.
A friend once told me: “a dead comrade is a useless one.”
They’re right, of course.
The state will kill you before you individually kill it. The state will slit your throat and bleed you like a pig until you give up, give in, or give out.
Killing yourself just makes their job easier.
Unsurprisingly, this does not make me feel any better.
(I’m still sorry about that).
I go to work.
I do the laundry; I prep the show I’m hired onto.
I smell like hairspray, sweat, and steam.
I think of:
Climate change, the courts, the dishes, dying children, guns, action, inaction, gas, my partner, killing myself, cars, inflation, abortions, lack of access, greed, anarchy, apathy, money, my future, growing old, owning a house, getting married, getting fucked, getting fucked over, transitioning, affording rent, ironing, the weather, my lunch, my cat, a folk-punk band I saw, my comrades, and when I can next have a drink.
I think of cowards. I think of crying.
I think of breaking a cup, a vase, my neck.
I think I’m at a breaking point, but aren’t we all?
I get off work.
My bank account is at $11.38.
I use my last $5 in cash to buy a drink.
I end my day with “Sleep well my beloved!”
I stare at my ceiling.
I stare at my phone.
I kiss my cat.
I go to bed.
Tomorrow’s the same.