the desire to fight desire
or, what i do when i'm off work
2:05 am
i don’t touch the outer handle of the door in case someone with pissy hands used it.
the parking lot is usually empty, a few stragglers around. sometimes, a lone car will sit in a corner. sometimes i wonder if it’s a pervert left over from the busy hours. is he…you know…with himself? can i say that? is he fiddling with himself? do i have to censor myself in my head? maybe i just can’t think too deeply about it.
my clothes are musty with onions and grease. the fabric holds onto everything. my trusty black turtleneck, the one i got on sale at the mall two years ago, has seen better days. it’s getting hotter and i’m getting antsy.
i take the wheel from mom. she rattles on about something or the other. she’s in her pajamas. i remember a fight i had with dad about her coming to get me in the mornings. when i asked him why he didn’t come instead, he changed the subject.
watch out for cops. watch out for dead things. watch out for large trucks. watch out for my shaking hands.
i’m getting better at parking in the driveway. i don’t hit the brake too much as i pull forward, a few feet from the garage door. the downhill slope always gets me. but it gets me a little less today.
2:30 am
i need to stop eating cheese. i can’t shit. i can’t shit. i can’t….oh wait…maybe? a little? don’t think about it. let’s not think about it. i need to eat more fruit. more fruit, less cheese. i love cheese, though. maybe just the cheese at work?
2:34 am
i’m running out of aquaphor. i don’t want to open a new one. i have to open the vitamin e capsules. they stink. i don’t like stinking when i go to bed. that’s why i spritz perfume on. does it do anything? i’m in my childhood bedroom in my large hanes underwear. does perfume do anything?
my hair is fuzzy. i can’t rebraid until august. i need to get better at gripping. god, i can’t see the back of my head well and i don’t want to put on my glasses.
2:43 am
my wrist still hurts from the gym. a little. it’s not a horrible pain like it was when i binged ugly betty and felt sorry for myself. i’m never wearing that brace again. fuck that guy that told me i was two pounds overweight with the biggest smile on his face. i thought he was being nice. maybe he thought he was. maybe i’m just a dumb c**t (cunt). when we see him at the gym, we’ll pretend like we don’t. that’ll show him.
crunch some numbers. crunch the same numbers. i feel hopeless being this frugal. i’m scared of having this money. i don’t want to spend it. i want to sit on it and think about it all day while swinging on the hammock that was in the front of my old place in texas. i don’t want the instant tan I got from laying in it for two minutes, though.
2:51 am
nyt connections is beating my ass. i’ll cheat. i can’t play spelling bee anymore without paying for it. that’s fine. i started cheating like two weeks ago and it hasn’t been as fun. i like strands. there’s no timer so i don’t feel stressed.
3:00 am
i don’t care about my duolingo streak. i do it anyway. a couple a days away from being 65 away from a year. then i’ll quit. maybe.
3:05 am
why am i seeing so many mcdonald’s lives? dunkin lives? how are they able to be live? i guess it’s night shift so nobody cares. god, that looks so familiar.
my head itches.
a month until my last day.
a couple minutes of tiktok and i’ll go to sleep.
3:18 am
great. saw something that made me feel bad about my life. i’m unsatisfied, right? probably just dramatic. maybe if i cry to some music for a few i’ll feel better about this sudden burst of ennui.
3:23 am
if i’m staying up, i might as well read. a book? fuck no. ao3. of course. did they update? stop being your grandmother’s caretaker for one minute and update my story (i’m totally kidding, please take care of your sweet granny, dear author).
same old same old. that’s a little kinky. too kinky for 3 in the morning. bookmark. bookmark. ugh, delete. run-on sentence. you bitch. put this shit through grammarly if you must, but damn. the first sentence?
4:10 am
great, i did it again. go to bed! go to bed! you have to be up at 9. to go on your hot girl walk. the walk you hate.
maybe i’ll write a little something. just real quick. put it in my drafts. i won’t publish it. just something new.
4:15 am
I don’t touch the outer handle of the door in case someone with pissy hands used it.
my latest:
until next time,
lauryn :)