The radio blares love and hurt to a room where everyone talks only of ancillary revenue. It's a place that makes me care about the stupidest shit. Sometimes I open my mouth and a sentence with the word liaise comes out and it won't go back in. Sometimes I close my mouth and grope a spreadsheet for one or seven hours. I spend the day around people who either care or pretend to care deeply about ancillary revenue. They're all so bloody insecure because everyone is so bloody insincere. The whole thing is ridiculous and everyone pretends it isn't. I want to lie on the grass in the sun.
I was checking the latest Instagrams when my phone went all soft. My finger went through the touchscreen and out the other side, as if I were fingering a generously filled jam doughnut. The phone was turning to liquid and the latest Instagrams were looking blurrier than usual. They were all over my hands and dripping into the carpet. I called tech support but they said they only deal with software issues. I'll have to try and fix it tomorrow because I need my phone to send messages and do other important things.
Parts were introduced to the heat one by one. My genitals were buoyant and my muscles blended into the water. Liquid surrounded my ears so the podcast became sounds, not words. Head tipped back, breathing holes rode the still surface of the pool until the serenity was broken by my body emerging out of water like a fish being thrown back in. My skin was rewarded by being scrubbed smooth with clean bubbles. I felt naked and happy.
When I was twenty or
one on the other ages
everyone says they want to be
again, or for the first time
I drafted an invitation to strangers
that read a little like this
A crude assumption from your face
sweet, it tells of charm within
hidden words, unlaughed laughs
tomorrow's touch, tender skin.
See my glass, three metres high
come to me, break it down
or my hunch remains disproved
a grim grey cloud, i float around.
It was the middle of the year and late in the day. The huge open plan office was emptying as employees were leaving to enjoy a rare English heatwave. There was still a couple of things I needed to do as I sat thinking about how I was being financially rewarded for feigning interest in attribution marketing. I had earned my seat there by saying shit like
I was drawn to the opportunity
Around me, two lads in their 20s were using their free time to talk about the future of retail. They were passionate and genuine as they bounced around ideas and opinions. We were the only ones still around, and I felt uncomfortable with nothing to add. My ears were obviously listening, despite the pretence of preoccupation on my face. I hoped they wouldn't say anything in my direction, but was also mad they didn't see me as worthy enough to join in. I felt contempt for their spark and intellect. I was frustrated I didn't belong there, nor know where I did.
Hi, I find it hard to construct narrative without writing, so I hope this will stop my thoughts from becoming as lost as it's possible to feel. I went to a counselling session a couple of years ago but I had nothing to say. I just sat there hoping the conversation would move onto a topic that wasn't my decision to be there, but it didn't. Counsellors aren't in the business of discussing the weather. After ten minutes I was walking home bemused because all I could think to say was that I was fine, when I had literally no idea whether or not it was true.