PUBLISHED January 25, 2014

Confuzzled at Four

X was drifting.

Her mind was chasing a thought to the edges of space.

There was nothing out there but blackness, dotted with multi colored blind spots, like when another car’s headlights beam through a windshield speckled with rain.

Anyway she was bored.

Beneath her feet the crust of the earth was churning.

Tectonic plates scraping against each other hundreds of miles beneath her.

She was on her head, literally speaking. Pressed to the Earth by gravity, her fluids staying firmly in tact.

She felt left out. Unplugged.

Where was it happening? Where was life happening?

Inside of her valves opened and closed, allowing a steady pulse of blood to course through her body.

At least that was something. At least she was doing that.

She thought about her hair several times a day. Its length. Its texture. Its origins under her scalp.

On her right cheek a pimple was introducing itself to the rest of her face.

She had great skin. Very great skin. So one pimple really stole the show.

Hopefully this damn NuvaRing will make my boobs bigger.

She grabbed them, daily. They were a comfort, currently suffocated by the Miraculous bra.

Her sister and roommate were sleeping. Soundly too, she bet.

X woke up from nightmares almost like clockwork. Six AM, chest thick with sweat. She’d plug in her Christmas lights and try to imagine a happy ending.

She always woke up tired.

He was elsewhere.

Aggravating her.

Assuming things and blanketing her in decisions that affected her, but were not hers. Everything would work itself out. Sometimes, in lulls, she liked to be dramatic. This was not one of those times. Not caring really was fantastic.

She drummed the keyboard. Grazed her fingers over the keys, and typed just to hear the noise. She loved that noise. Always loved that noise. As a child would test out keyboards at Office Max, just to hear the clicks.

She always wrote, but never edited. And was therefore not a writer.

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