I’ve been trying so hard all of my life, to fit in. None of it has paid off. Why else would I be sitting here in this glass box, with that bright light above me right now? They think I am a freak. They call me “other.”
Amidst the great ‘rona pandemic, people far and wide have been encouraged to practice “social distancing,” that is; avoiding large crowds and limiting physical contact with others so that the disease can be easier to contain. For some, this has been an easy transition with little bumps.
It felt like I was on the edge, perpetually falling, on the verge of tipping over constantly. I tried to swallow the panic that rose in my throat like bile. I tried to keep calm. To not give up. I gave up several times over, for a brief second each time.
On the day that this picture was taken, I flipped off a black homeless man. He was sitting on the sidewalk, and had a dirty red blanket around his shoulders. In his hand was a rattling plastic cup containing a few coins. Anyone who might have seen this insensitive gesture would probably think of me as a cold, heartless bitch.
It’s almost 1am that i’m writing this. 12:54am, and who knows when i’ll be done? The thoughts came way before that. Way, way before, even though i had told myself i would be fine without you - better off without you.