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March 14 - March 20, 2025
My profile contains two photos. One is of a garbage can captioned “me,” and the other is of a cat I saw once.
profoundly millennial (derogatory)
Eli had a shoebox full of Polaroids under his bed. I found the box when I was looking for my missing cell phone charger. The box was overflowing with photos of Eli wearing women’s clothing. Some of the clothing was mine. I sat on the edge of his bed, looking into the box. When I first saw the photos, I laughed. I thought, how ridiculous. I then realized that most of the clothing he was wearing was mine, and I felt fleetingly angry that he had stolen it from me. My anger simmered when I noticed the contented expression on his face, and the way he had accessorized my blouse. The longer I looked
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Compelling, but will probably be wasted on this narrative.
Why? Is this my style? Why does the concept of style exist at all? Do I drape fabric over my body for the same reasons turtles have shells? Is it because I’m like a bird, and these are my feathers? Is it for some other reason? Why did I pick these colors? How much money did I spend on these things? What will happen to this stuff when I die? Will everything be donated and worn by people who I’ve never met? What if someone I have met wears them? What if they unknowingly walk around in their dead acquaintance’s green hoodie? Which of these things did I buy from a thrift store? Did anyone already
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Navel-gazing? This is umbilical gazing.
despite the fact that her husband is dead, her teeth are probably fake, and all human life is fundamentally inconsequential.
Oh lord.
Listen—because this is really important. We are all just floating in space, okay? Think about it, we’re just ghosts inside skeletons, inside skin bags, floating on a rock in space.
Oh brother
I am one of 7.53 billion people on a planet orbiting one of 100 billion stars in one galaxy among billions of galaxies in an ever-expanding universe.
:/
