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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I pour fresh coffee into an oversized black mug.  It’s filling and then it’s spilling all over the counter, neatly covering the surface with vanilla-scented liquid, making two straight lines onto the hardwood floor, into shadows of dusk.

I think I’m really out of it, and I am.  I feel queasy, often.  I have acne.

 

This actually seems to be working.  I can’t imagine myself having any stupid gender arguments ever again.  There are many things happening simultaneously, not least of which is a violent increase in my body fat percentage, although I didn’t gain any weight.  It’s also infinitely easier to maintain the resonance and timbre of my voice.

 

And I decided that I’m not really alone in this, I’m just needy.  Note to self; be less needy.