TWO
“What kind of luggage you got? You’re allergic to love.”
Yes I know but I must say in my own defense...
--JM
Lizzy woke with the sunlight burning into her eyes. She let out a long groan and lifted her head from the pillow. Running her hands through her stringy hair she felt disheveled and dirty. She didn’t shower last night and a layer of sweat had glazed over her body and dried up. Yucky, was all she could think.
But when she glanced over at the mirror on the opposite wall, she let out a chuckle. She actually looked cute, she thought, in a kind of “oops I woke up and forgot I was cute” kind of cute. Her hair was scattered about like tangled wires and there were raccoon circles around her eyes, but her face was fresh and glowing. She began making faces at the mirror, mimicking a model responding to a photographer’s demands of “make it sweet! Good, now sassy baby, like a tiger, show me some sass.” She imagined herself on the cover of Vogue, in a stylized Victorian-era corset and ruffled skirt. It would be a trendy, upscale Goth look. The article inside would detail her latest trip to Africa where she distributed condoms to stop the spread of AIDS, or to China where she handed out wheelchairs to poor, disabled children.
Lizzy was embarrassed thinking thoughts like this, but they just came to her for some reason. Icons and symbols like Vogue and all the rest had been branded into her skull since birth. She was a child of the sensory overload generation; everywhere she turned was a billboard and a snappy catch phrase. The world seemed to Lizzy to be a giant shopping mall, a collection of logos stacked one on top of each other. It was the religion of modern times. When God died, advertisements took over to teach the people how to live. They tell you not only what to buy, but also what is cool, how to act, how to look, how to have sex, who to date and who not to date at all costs. Sometimes Lizzy felt like she had no free will at all, like she had strings attached to her arms and legs and was being led around by the world that existed outside of her.
She turned away from the mirror and fell back into the bed. Closing her eyes, she tossed and turned for a few minutes before opening them again and letting out a heave of frustration. She was extremely tired but couldn’t get back to sleep.
Giving up, she rose from the bed, tied her hair back and walked downstairs in her nightgown. Coffee was one thing she needed.
Downstairs, her roommate’s door was slightly ajar. Lizzy pushed it open a bit more and peaked inside. A chorus of snores filled the otherwise peaceful room. Cindy, Lizzy’s roommate, was sprawled out half on top of her boyfriend Chad, who was contorted at a weird angle with one arm sticking straight up in the air. Lizzy let out a quiet laugh and closed the door.
She prepared the coffee and chomped noisily on an apple. She was hungry and devoured the piece of fruit in an animalistic manner she only allowed herself to exploit when she was alone. When the perfume of coffee permeated the house, Cindy came out of her room, wiping her eyes groggily.
“What’s up diva?” Lizzy exclaimed with overly peppy sarcasm.
“Shut up,” Cindy said, “I’m not in the mood.” A tired, angry mug plagued her face.
“What’s wrong? Drank too much last?” Lizzy egged her on.
“Fuck,” Cindy stated, “I think I topped the twenty mark for the weekend.”
“Nice!” Lizzy said. “What does that make the total for the month?”
“I don’t know. A lot. We were drinking mezcal too. It must have been good stuff, because I don’t have that much of a headache. Although my stomach feels like sharks are swimming around in there.”
“Wow, mezcal. I hope Chad was paying.”
“No, Chad, didn’t make it out. He said he wasn’t ‘feeling well,’” Cindy made the quotation marks with her fingers. “I met up with Tina at Get Me High Cafe. And of course Michael was there. Fuck, it was another one of those nights.” She moved closer to Lizzy and whispered. “I strolled in at 5:45. Chad was so pissed. He wouldn’t talk to me, he just rolled over, wouldn’t even touch me at first. I think he suspects, but he can’t seem to get any proof. I’m nice like that.”
“Well, be careful. You know what you’re doing, but be careful.”
“Right, let’s not talk about this anymore. So how did it go with what’s his face, and the ball and all that?”
“Oh, it was really nice, really nice,” Lizzie said. “Tom is, well, he’s cool. We had a good time. The music was good, and it was nice to be all dressed up and everything. But there’s something about Tom. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m allergic to love or something. I just can’t get that into somebody anymore. Or I’m into like three guys at the same time and I love all of them without loving any of them. I’m kinda disillusioned like. I try not to feel anything at all. I just want to be this blob of flesh that walks around the world not feeling anything.”
“That’s a nice image.”
“Yeah, well. Anyway, I fell asleep in his car. We went back to his house and I slept on his couch. I woke up at 7 and came home. Then I went back to sleep for like two hours, but I couldn’t sleep anymore. Maybe I’ll take a nap later.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Cindy agreed. “I can’t sleep either. There’s something about my nerves after a night like that. A thousand thoughts are flying through my head and I just need to be up and moving around and thinking things through. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m too deep into everything right now. Sometimes I just want to take that butcher’s knife and slash my throat.”
“Well don’t do that,” Lizzy said. “Everything can be worked out. Nothing is really that important in the end. These things seem like a puzzle right now, but when it’s over and you look back on it you see how it all fits together.”
“I guess. I don’t know. I start drinking and everything becomes so unreal and I just feel like I can do anything because nothing is really there. It’s very in the moment, but at the same time it’s out of the moment because it’s nothing, it’s fake. I drink and drink, and my biggest fear is of running out. I need to get to that next drink. If the bar closes, I need to get somewhere where there’s more. I’d do anything just to get another drop, or to ensure that it will never run out. It’s very dangerous and scary, but it’s there. And the more I drink, the more unreal it becomes and the less I need to worry about what I’m doing.”
A rumbling came from Cindy’s room and their glares were both diverted to that side of the house. Chad came out looking scruffy and worn.
“Hey everyone,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m so hungry I think I’m gonna puke.”
Yes I know but I must say in my own defense...
--JM
Lizzy woke with the sunlight burning into her eyes. She let out a long groan and lifted her head from the pillow. Running her hands through her stringy hair she felt disheveled and dirty. She didn’t shower last night and a layer of sweat had glazed over her body and dried up. Yucky, was all she could think.
But when she glanced over at the mirror on the opposite wall, she let out a chuckle. She actually looked cute, she thought, in a kind of “oops I woke up and forgot I was cute” kind of cute. Her hair was scattered about like tangled wires and there were raccoon circles around her eyes, but her face was fresh and glowing. She began making faces at the mirror, mimicking a model responding to a photographer’s demands of “make it sweet! Good, now sassy baby, like a tiger, show me some sass.” She imagined herself on the cover of Vogue, in a stylized Victorian-era corset and ruffled skirt. It would be a trendy, upscale Goth look. The article inside would detail her latest trip to Africa where she distributed condoms to stop the spread of AIDS, or to China where she handed out wheelchairs to poor, disabled children.
Lizzy was embarrassed thinking thoughts like this, but they just came to her for some reason. Icons and symbols like Vogue and all the rest had been branded into her skull since birth. She was a child of the sensory overload generation; everywhere she turned was a billboard and a snappy catch phrase. The world seemed to Lizzy to be a giant shopping mall, a collection of logos stacked one on top of each other. It was the religion of modern times. When God died, advertisements took over to teach the people how to live. They tell you not only what to buy, but also what is cool, how to act, how to look, how to have sex, who to date and who not to date at all costs. Sometimes Lizzy felt like she had no free will at all, like she had strings attached to her arms and legs and was being led around by the world that existed outside of her.
She turned away from the mirror and fell back into the bed. Closing her eyes, she tossed and turned for a few minutes before opening them again and letting out a heave of frustration. She was extremely tired but couldn’t get back to sleep.
Giving up, she rose from the bed, tied her hair back and walked downstairs in her nightgown. Coffee was one thing she needed.
Downstairs, her roommate’s door was slightly ajar. Lizzy pushed it open a bit more and peaked inside. A chorus of snores filled the otherwise peaceful room. Cindy, Lizzy’s roommate, was sprawled out half on top of her boyfriend Chad, who was contorted at a weird angle with one arm sticking straight up in the air. Lizzy let out a quiet laugh and closed the door.
She prepared the coffee and chomped noisily on an apple. She was hungry and devoured the piece of fruit in an animalistic manner she only allowed herself to exploit when she was alone. When the perfume of coffee permeated the house, Cindy came out of her room, wiping her eyes groggily.
“What’s up diva?” Lizzy exclaimed with overly peppy sarcasm.
“Shut up,” Cindy said, “I’m not in the mood.” A tired, angry mug plagued her face.
“What’s wrong? Drank too much last?” Lizzy egged her on.
“Fuck,” Cindy stated, “I think I topped the twenty mark for the weekend.”
“Nice!” Lizzy said. “What does that make the total for the month?”
“I don’t know. A lot. We were drinking mezcal too. It must have been good stuff, because I don’t have that much of a headache. Although my stomach feels like sharks are swimming around in there.”
“Wow, mezcal. I hope Chad was paying.”
“No, Chad, didn’t make it out. He said he wasn’t ‘feeling well,’” Cindy made the quotation marks with her fingers. “I met up with Tina at Get Me High Cafe. And of course Michael was there. Fuck, it was another one of those nights.” She moved closer to Lizzy and whispered. “I strolled in at 5:45. Chad was so pissed. He wouldn’t talk to me, he just rolled over, wouldn’t even touch me at first. I think he suspects, but he can’t seem to get any proof. I’m nice like that.”
“Well, be careful. You know what you’re doing, but be careful.”
“Right, let’s not talk about this anymore. So how did it go with what’s his face, and the ball and all that?”
“Oh, it was really nice, really nice,” Lizzie said. “Tom is, well, he’s cool. We had a good time. The music was good, and it was nice to be all dressed up and everything. But there’s something about Tom. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m allergic to love or something. I just can’t get that into somebody anymore. Or I’m into like three guys at the same time and I love all of them without loving any of them. I’m kinda disillusioned like. I try not to feel anything at all. I just want to be this blob of flesh that walks around the world not feeling anything.”
“That’s a nice image.”
“Yeah, well. Anyway, I fell asleep in his car. We went back to his house and I slept on his couch. I woke up at 7 and came home. Then I went back to sleep for like two hours, but I couldn’t sleep anymore. Maybe I’ll take a nap later.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Cindy agreed. “I can’t sleep either. There’s something about my nerves after a night like that. A thousand thoughts are flying through my head and I just need to be up and moving around and thinking things through. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m too deep into everything right now. Sometimes I just want to take that butcher’s knife and slash my throat.”
“Well don’t do that,” Lizzy said. “Everything can be worked out. Nothing is really that important in the end. These things seem like a puzzle right now, but when it’s over and you look back on it you see how it all fits together.”
“I guess. I don’t know. I start drinking and everything becomes so unreal and I just feel like I can do anything because nothing is really there. It’s very in the moment, but at the same time it’s out of the moment because it’s nothing, it’s fake. I drink and drink, and my biggest fear is of running out. I need to get to that next drink. If the bar closes, I need to get somewhere where there’s more. I’d do anything just to get another drop, or to ensure that it will never run out. It’s very dangerous and scary, but it’s there. And the more I drink, the more unreal it becomes and the less I need to worry about what I’m doing.”
A rumbling came from Cindy’s room and their glares were both diverted to that side of the house. Chad came out looking scruffy and worn.
“Hey everyone,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m so hungry I think I’m gonna puke.”
posted by Frankis Molloy at 10:09 AM
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