Excerpts from Nanowrimo
Written by Lydia-Zhou
This work was last updated January 26, 2016
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Speaking of friendlessness:
Eating in the washroom is an interesting exercise in acting. To avoid ridicule or, worse, questioning coming from a good heart, much must be done to avoid appearing to actually be eating in the washroom. If you are ever in need of this skill, I have a few tips.
One, be nonchalant. Look like you’re just going in to take a number two or going for a piss. In other words, be on your phone and chill on Facebook or Instagram or something.
Two, walk into a stall and sit down on the toilet. THIS IS IMPORTANT. The floor is dirty; but also, North American washroom stalls have giant gaps from the floor for some reason, so inquisitive people can and will notice your ass sitting on the floor. Besides, it’s dirty.
Three, eat quickly. Chew and swallow. Gulp some liquid and swallow everything.
The rest of lunch time can be used for fun things instead of sad-eating on the toilet. You can even take an actual number two.
Speaking of breaking up:
“I’ve been thinking. We don’t work.”
I didn’t think I had more tears. My body astounds me. I forget that it's 75% water. I blink and my eyes are dry again. So much pride. This is a crucial time. I must not cry. I numb myself.
“I don’t know how we will work with long distance.”
“We live 30 minutes walk apart and I haven't seen you outside of class in three months.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. But we did go into this knowing that this was probably short-term. That we would be going to different universities. I don’t know. I just don’t see any way to fix the problem. I'm so busy. In September, you’ll be there, and I’ll be here. I’m sorry.”
I smile. Shrug. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I guess I won’t be seeing you then. I’ll be going on vacation with the family in a few days. We'll be gone all summer.”
Oh. “Cool, have fun. No hug?” I go in for a—
“Okay, no. We’re not doing this okay?”
“Oh— Okay.” I am so flustered. It was just a friendly gesture. My collar itches. Tears threaten again. “Yeah of course."
You are out the door.
I am alone.
Speaking of romance:
I am not a romantic. Rationality reason logical thinking. Numbers and logic. Because therefore thus. Boring.
I want the adjectives the adverbs the esoteric descriptions. I want long scrawling prose falling off the page and crawling back up again, climbing into a climax and then sparking into fireworks in my brain. I want my consciousness dripping out of my brain and streaming out of my eyes, dot dot dotting my pages with my heart and my brain and my soul.
Speaking of love:
I have never been as lonely as when I loved him.
It is hard to explain how I felt at once ungrateful and neglected and unloved and unwanted. I had thought I was passed the childhood loneliness. The angst of not knowing where I fit, where my body mind heart fit snug— I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten how much “alone in a room full of people” stings, except this with him it was “alone with the one who is meant to complete you”.
This morning I put myself back together again
pieces scrambled and bleeding copper iron
I was one thing again
Almost a masterpiece again
Do you know what it is like to watch yourself shatter
all the night's mending tumbled in pieces
her tears his cries they need help
I was finally whole again
I was almost a masterpiece again
so I gave them my glue the staples holding my skin together
Gave her my skin and gave him my glue
Take care of yourselves please
Their tears shatter me
and my p i e c e
s p i n d o
w n th e
d r ai