Luster

by Raven Leilani

That we will both have to endure my attempt to prove over the course of this date that I am Having a Good Time! and that This Is Not Your Fault!

Based on his liberal use of the semicolon, I just assumed this date would go well.

“Interesting,” I say. Of course, it is not interesting that he has been allowed to live candidly. It is not interesting that he cannot conceive of anything else. He has equated his range of motion with mine. He hasn’t considered the lies you tell to survive, the kindness of pretend, which I illustrate now, as I eat this bacterial hot dog. This is the first time I sort of understand him. He thinks we’re alike. He has no idea how hard I’m trying.

I am good, but not good enough, which is worse than simply being bad. It is almost.

but there is still ample time for him to bring up how much he enjoyed Atlas Shrugged.

This was the contradiction that would define me for years, my attempt to secure undiluted solitude and my swift betrayal of this effort once in the spotlight of an interested man. I was pretending not to worry about the consequences of my isolation. But whenever I talked to anyone, I found myself overcompensating for the atrophy of my social muscles.

She was not permitted to have an opinion so much as observe these boyfriends’ exhibitions of taste,

I think of all the gods I have made out of feeble men.