There’s something wrong with me. My stomach has been knotted up like a garden hose and I don’t know why. Why isn’t my brother jumping out from behind the bushes and letting the hose go and spraying me. Why is it still in knots. I’m only five years old.
It’s 9:37 pm on a Friday night. I just got out of the shower and am sitting on my bed, half dressed, for a party I don’t know if I am going to. I check my phone. Nothing. I text my friend, “When are you coming over?” Nothing. No worry, no worry, I’m sure she’s just busy. I watch an episode of The Office. I think about ordering pizza. Check the time, it’s now 10:40. Getting late. She is obviously blowing me off, right? I try to make other plans, send a few trepidatious texts out into the chummy water. Do I want to meet someone at a frat party of course not. It’s October, and cold, and at least a 25 minute walk, and I will hate all of the people there. Do I want to come over and watch a movie and drink wine of course not. It’s a Friday night, I’m 21, I should be out at a party. Crawl into bed, still wearing a skirt and no shirt for the maybe party that I’m maybe going to. My hair is drying into a frizz ball, I don’t notice. My friends don’t notice me. They hate me. Everyone hates me. It’s 11:25 pm before I hear from my friend. “Sorry I was downtown I’m on my way what’s the address meet you there” end text message. By this point I’m already halfway through my Sarpinos order. I finish and curl up inside myself on my bed, feeling atrocious. I deserve this, I had it coming, it’s all my fault. Do I want to be at home alone on a friday night of course not. But I can’t make myself go outside either and there is no one here to push me out the door and hold my hand. I am alone.
Sherman Ave 