I Think it’s Chronic, Doctor

To be fair, I didn't expect much out of my life. From the time I was five, I had my life figured out. I was going to be a drunk aunt who stumbles in, says something funny, sees a man and decides to make him my next victim. I didn't realize that those were low expectations until I looked around and realized I am in danger of that being my reality. I have no one. My bed is always empty; my phone seldom rings. I am not a head-turner (never was), but men don't give me the time of day. A part of me wonders if it has to do with my maturity level since I basically cling to whoever I go out with. I squeeze my dog's leash in the presence of males, never let go of the shopping cart in the story, and talk to my friends as if others are invisible when we hang out.

Online, I transform into someone else. Someone sexy, someone desirable, someone new. I still only touch them with a ten-foot pole at shortest. I've watched enough murder shows to know that I am at the most risk from being swindled out of my ten-dollar checks and ending up butchered in someone's backyard. Plus, there's just no interest. I give crumbs of myself, and when I notice the pieces of myself missing, make them fast. Any skeleton that is still breathing when I go out to my doorstep is unceremoniously brushed off. I feel like a Taylor Swift album. Friends come over and party for a while, but I always end up alone and brokenhearted by the witching hour.

The distance is only felt and dwelt on then when I'm in my bed alone watching some oily people have what I wish I could. I'm destined to die a virgin in a dorm bed with porn playing to give my corpse some feeling. All I feel now is twinges of emotions. The sweet rainbow of feelings at a crush faded years ago and all I get is a kaleidoscope of ghosts whispering in my ear at various times. The forgotten dream of being married that was buried by comfort in being divorced. The hallucination of being a mother is cured with the jealous joy of being an aunt. The thoughts of being a normal housewife living in a large house commenting that my adorable kid had my eyes and his lips are suffocated with sad music and an assurance that it's fun to starfish in my bed and eat whatever I want and need no one. I decided that no one can tame me. It helps me sleep at night.