Faces on the train scare me: There is nothing human about them. Every now and then I see a face with shiny eyes, a girl, a revolutionary, or a kid… then I lock eyes with them and drink.
When there is no radiant girl in view, no revolutionary, and no kid, I become slightly depressed and think about the society, and God, and how to be loved while living in Zombieland.
I want to be loved. I have a heart, a pair of hands and a vagina.
But zombies… zombies… they are everywhere and they are impenetrable.
I was one of them once, and therefore I don’t judge. I have walked the inferno, I cried and I screamed. Inferno looks like a house of chocolate but it is sh*t. You want a taste, and the next thing you know, you are chest-deep in caustic mess, chanting slogans, and there are no exit signs.
“I can’t be needy”, you say. “Thank God it’s Friday”. “Yes, all good”. “Love is an illusion”. “I am alone”.
To verify that, you have sitcoms, and public opinion (who is public? these people I am looking at?)
People on the D train scare me. They are lazy, inert, borderline imbecile. Their eyes are murky and faces– melting. Every single one of them has chosen this way of life, just like I chose to be stupid years ago, when I just came to America. It pains me to think about it. Me!!! Un-f**king things up turned out significantly more difficult than I thought, I am still dealing with it although now I know that being alive is the only way I can be happy. If only I knew that when I was taking wrong turns…
Looking at these faces, I don’t judge. I panic.
The tally does not inspire me: People are cattle-like; Shepherds are obnoxious; Bureaucracy is strong; Love is rare. Everybody is performing to their best ability, like children. But when everybody around is increasingly absent, who is left to love me?
“Love me, love me, love me,” I scream.
“Keep going”, something inside me replies, and I keep going as I pray for light and a better home.
© Tessa Makes Love 2012