“Show a little leg.”
I throw my leg on the bar and the bartender ambles down towards us. Dave is at least twenty years my senior and he is sitting next to me waiting for a drink. The bar is moderately packed.
“Gin and juice, pineapple.”
Dave likes my drink and orders his own. I suspect that he favors me more than the drink. He was going to order a beer. Our small talk is sharp but not worth mentioning. I couldn’t look him in the eye, I try but there’s no spark. I am looking for a man to give me an orgasm. This is not the man. No man can give me what I need but that doesn’t stop the poorest from trying. I humor them out of boredom. I am a sweetheart to the most deluded of masses. I give them cigarettes and kisses and laugh when they grab my ass but I feel nothing. I pity them. They cannot sense my apathy; I do not know how they could mistake their lust for pleasure. The flesh is banal to me.
It’s an open mic night and a band is playing. I dance until I’m wet. I look repulsive but it doesn’t seem to deter Dave. He dances with me and I hate him for it. I don’t want him near me but I don’t know how to tell him. He keeps kissing me and all I want to do is leave. Every night it’s the same. I look for a lover and find none. We are all corpses rubbing against each other without a pulse, without a current of love. I am losing faith in love. I am losing faith in all I once knew. I am changing, evolving and learning. I have reached the point where I no longer want to make the same mistakes, it has been three years since my split with sanity and I am still picking up the pieces. I am more of a child now than I ever was. I have no job. I live with my mother. I have no ambition or dreams, my heart was broken, and I haven’t recovered. I wallow. I dropped out of college twice. So now I think to myself to become a novelist, but this is all I can think to write. And I will be the first to say it is all cliché. Honesty is all I have left and the deeper I go the rawer the edge.
I never believed in god. I was raised Christian in several different churches. The smiles those people wore cracked like plaster. The emotion is exhaustion and desperation and it permeates the congregation as we all pray for the beginning, for the purity of birth. The self is dynamic and each change a digression against god. In growth have we sinned? Why is knowledge a sin? The insanity is catching and I am not alone in my struggle with god. The world is a tidal wave of religion, the beauty of our abstraction distorted into fairy tales and lullabies. The creative force of humankind is limitless. We are gods.
Comments