dana ansari vs. the world

The instant woman, like instant coffee; necessary, familiar, wanting.

Every day I do the best that I can to fulfill the needs and expectations of those I’ve included in my circle.  The people I’m codependent upon.  I balance a spectrum of needs and desires, trading values for time, dreams for security, meaning for lust, energy for capital.  Back and forth it goes.  If I ever stopped, I’d be soulrupt or something, but this is my reality.  Whatever I traded for my body, for my life – whatever it was I did, it cost.

It’s all I can do not to think or feel too much.

 

Meanwhile, I’ve fallen in love with someone I don’t even know.  I guess that happens.  This is maybe the eighth time for me.  It gets jaded, I’m like, ‘yeah, there’s this person and she’s perfect, and I’m like nothing, and it feels like my life is over.’

My roommate tells me to stop being so angsty and adolescent.  I gave her the double finger.

 

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When you close your eyes on the subway.  Because you don’t want them to look into your eyes.  To see what you’ve become last night – and cast off yet again.  That your only hope and desire is for your next hit of unconditional acceptance.

 

As the world speeds around you.  Your saving grace, these others.  The people and their smells and ways, their clothing and polite attitudes.  An occasional smile, or moment of understanding.  Chaos of thoughtless purpose.  Save my soul.

 

I try, desperately to forget who I was.  The information in my head, steampunk equations of science.  Things, which in wartimes would have me working in a national laboratory.  I should hate myself for succeeding, but no one believes me.

 

Thank you to GoodnightNina for the pic from her blog and constant inspiration.