Circulation
a short story
Sometimes I come to the conclusion that my life must simply be a bullshit roundabout that I’ll be stuck going around for the rest of my sorry years. Especially as every single thing that routinely stands as negative for me, also stands as a habit that I can never seem to break. Like the boyfriend who beats me but is great in bed, and the cigarettes that I keep telling my doctor I’m going to quit as she prescribes me an inhaler and another sleeping medication that I’ll probably just forget to take.
I need to find a better job, because the pay is shit where I work now, but they’ve moved everything online, making it quite literally impossible to get hired anywhere. It’s funny being twenty-three and having it already determined that you’re a failure. I always dreamt of being a movie star as a little girl, but they don’t give you a callback for anything in that regard, either. Too bad I wasn’t a child pornstar, otherwise I would’ve been set in life. I do my drugs like I’m one, though, so I suppose I have the lifestyle, minus the money.
I had a job interview, my first one in months, at a local coffee shop just a few days ago. They seemed to like me, though I believe the lady conducting the interview was skeptical, especially as I tend to lie to make people like me more, and there is always an obvious pause in my speech before I do so. I wonder if I’m more transparent than I thought. Or maybe she could simply smell the lingering smoke on my breath and that put her off. I’ve also noticed that people don’t take you seriously if your teeth are jacked up, but it’s not my fault that I can’t fucking afford dental. I swear, everything is all in a loophole. A double standard circulation that I can never seem to escape. I can’t get better, but I’m not really sure that I want to get better. My abusive boyfriend pays for our beer and cable, and the government pays for our groceries. Even though they really don’t give us enough, we don’t ever eat it all anyway. Mostly because whatever I eat, I end up vomiting it up regardless, so I just typically decide not to eat it in the first place. I do like the mildly disgusting cheese, though.
Weirdly enough, it reminds me of myself. Simply terrible, though I guess it’s the thought that counts.
Yes, don’t worry, Maman. Je vais très bien.
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Lots of love,
Jubilee xoxo
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Cups of coffee consumed during the creation of this piece: 1
Cups of tea consumed during the creation of this piece: 0
Cups of water consumed during the creation of this piece: 0