Everyone in This Room Will Someday Be Dead

by Emily R. Austin

I am staring into her beaming eyes, wondering how I too can achieve happiness. Does living a life unburdened by the fear of catching HPV result in that level of euphoria? If so, shoot me up.

I responded that I take no medication, which means no birth control, and I responded that there is no chance that I could be pregnant—consequently suggesting that I am likely celibate. I am not. I am just gay, and thus blessedly exempt from the hazard of pregnancy.

true experience

You’re Catholic, of course?” “Yes,” I say, even though I am an atheist lesbian.

It turns out the crackers I stole are the body of Christ. After eating more than half the bag, I googled the cracker brand and learned that I paired marble Cracker Barrel cheese with God’s transubstantiated body. I had originally googled the crackers so I could leave them a review. I planned to write: BORING. Whoever created these is unimaginative. These crackers are tasteless and bland.

HELP

“No,” I said. “I’ve always known I was gay, I think. Whenever I played with dolls, I’d make up romantic storylines about two girl Barbies. Before I even knew the word ‘gay,’ I knew I was gay.”

me

I’m worried Jeff and the Catholics will be able to sense I am doing something gay.

If I move slowly enough, maybe the email will walk away and I won’t have to confront it.

If I were pregnant, it would be immaculate conception.

All of the conversations I was having with my “matches” were similarly dull. I’m not well versed in small talk, and every conversation felt the same. We would tell each other what our jobs were, compliment each other’s photos, and ask each other insipid questions until someone finally stopped replying.

maybe i’m aroace

“One day, you are going to die,” Jeff’s booming voice echoes through the church. “Everyone in this room will someday be dead.”

If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination. They must be put to death. Yikes. Thank God this one doesn’t seem to apply to women either. I’m disappointed God is so homophobic that he forgot about lesbians, but I guess I would rather be forgotten than put to death.

thank god i’m a sapphic woman!!!

“I’m sorry for talking so much,” I replied. “I’m anxious.”

“You could have died! And then what?” And then what? I spent the rest of the day looking out my window at the ocean-road, wondering what would have happened if I had died. And then what? And then what? And then what?

I drove to the beach and thought about killing myself there—not just because of the car, but because I had been depressed for years—but instead I decided to go to McDonald’s and order a bag of fries.

Memories of being younger than eleven were starting to fade. I didn’t feel eleven; I often accidentally answered that I was ten when people asked. I felt like time was moving quickly. I felt nostalgic for being younger, and it bothered me that I’d forgotten things. Who was my teacher in first grade? What color was my living room before my parents painted it? Who was my best friend in kindergarten? I felt like I was never in the moment I was in. I was always looking back, or worried about the future.

I wish I were with Eleanor.

LET THE LESBIANS BE HAPPY

I am still waiting for the happiness I chose to kick in.

“You’re really pretty,” I tell her. She laughs really loudly. “Fuck off.”

revivió el romanticismo

“Hey, wait a minute.” My anxiety raises its hand. “Yes?” I acknowledge it.

HELP

I am looking into Eleanor’s face on her pillow. Her eyes are brown. “Your eyes are brown,” I tell her. “I know,” she replies, smiling. “Do you think you’ll want to get married one day?” I ask her. She snorts. “Wow, I can’t figure you out!” “What do you mean?” I ask. She laughs. “Half the time you don’t text me back, and now you’re talking to me about marriage? Don’t you think it’s a little early to ask me that kind of question, Gilda?” “I just wondered,” I explain, “in general, do you think you’ll ever want to get married to anyone?” “Well,” she answers, rolling on her back, “I’m not really sure.” She has freckles. “You have freckles,” I tell her. “I know,” she replies, smiling.

MY BABIES

She takes her elastic out of her own hair and uses it to pull my hair back. I keep trying to say that I’m okay, it’s all right, don’t worry, but every time I open my mouth I puke.

they’re so cuteee

Eleanor finds the movie funny; she keeps snorting and slapping her knee. A thrill of happiness washes over me as I listen to her ridiculous chortle.

I hadn’t felt engaged in any conversation I’d had in months, but I felt engaged talking to her. I was interested in what she had to say. Every time I got a notification that she had messaged me, I felt alert.

cutie patooties

If I feel bad because I think I’m not a good friend, for example, I might avoid people, which will then make me feel worse. If, instead of avoiding people, I visit a friend, that behavior will affect my thoughts about how good a friend I am, which will in turn affect my feelings and my behavior in the future.”

thank u for the advice eleanor

A thrill of happiness washes over me as I listen to Eleanor’s ridiculous chortle.

YAYYYY A HAPPY ENDING FOR THE LESBIANSSSS

I scream, “What the fuck? You’re alive!”

omg i’m so sad i don’t want this book to end, it’s literally what my thoughts look like; as if i had written a book, or a book had been written specifically for me ☹️ this book will forever hold a special place in my heart 💗