Dig.

by A.S. King

I can’t stop the variables. She can’t stop the variables. Every night, we eat potatoes.

When I shovel, I feel like I was born to shovel things. I consider shoveling things for the rest of my life. Shovel snow, shovel dirt, shovel Mom, shovel myself.

“You donate to the animals and you eat lamb chops,” I say.

All you’ll ever get is the kindness of the Drive-Thru girl after growling your entitled order into my head. Gimme-gimme-gimme: the battle cry of millions of people every day. People who want.

She just talks about how great it is that their god makes them wear “turbans” so she can pick them out in a crowd. She thinks this is funny.

It’s not just a passing comment or a racist quip in the hallway. My whole house is wallpapered with hate. My dinner is made with hate. My Christmas gifts are bought with hate. I started doing my own wash when I was ten just so my clothes can feel clean when everything else feels dirty.

I try to be the healthy bacteria.

thats me, healthy bacteria

They weren’t like us, no. They were better/stronger/smarter because they had to live in the same world with people like my grandmother.

*black people*

They teach us how to write a clear thesis statement long before they teach us how to deal with creepy-maybe-sex-offenders.

I feel so white right now, I can’t stand myself.

this struck too close to home

It’s because entitled white culture encourages those inside it to never look outside their own fucking worlds. We blow everything off because we’re so concerned with looking good we can’t just feel.

She sees herself as a young woman. She regrets her whole life in an instant. That’s dessert.

We have names. We’re just so used to being labeled, we took to it.

“The best part of all of you is underground if you keep thinking those people define you.

“You want to know the truth about people, always look at their trash.”