(no subject)
I remember it was summer. I cannot remember what day of the week, only that I was on a folded out lawn chair, the sort that allows you to spread your limbs and soak up the sun and fall asleep the moment you lie down on it. The sun was on my skin and the breeze was slight. In Long Beach, in the afternoons, there silence was not interrupted by birds. If there were any, they would be sparrows, though the crows stayed on the branches in the front yard. Occassionally you could hear the sound of parrots flying overhead moving toward the trees miles away by Belmont Shore. But not this day.
On some days, some nights, the smell of the ocean would be carried as far as the neighbourhoods by Cal State Long Beach, but not this day.
And it was admittedly beautiful nevertheless. I lie there in the sun.
But then I thought to myself - I remember it distinctly - 'I wish I were dead.' And I sat there with the thought knowing full well how happy someone would have been to be me in that moment. But I wasn't.
Today I grabbed two Target bags filled with trash: one with used menstrual pads and kitty litter dust, another with used dental floss, empty toilet paper rolls, and cat shit, and I carried them out to the dumpster. It was under 90 degrees outside & for that I was thankful. There was hardly a breeze.
The cicadas took turns chirping. If you haven't heard cicadas, they do this, like a musical round. One set of cicadas in a tree will chirp and then the sound will die out before another tree begins to sing and again to the next tree and the next.
I tossed the two trash bags over the dumpster lid, the menstrual pads, the cat shit, & I stood there & listened to the cicadas.
And I did not wish I were dead. I thought, instead, thank god I can hear these cicadas. Thank god I am alive to hear this & to have cat shit to throw away because it means I have cats.
And then I went back inside my home where two of the three cats were sprawled out on the couch with the TV on playing WWE Monday Night Raw.
On some days, some nights, the smell of the ocean would be carried as far as the neighbourhoods by Cal State Long Beach, but not this day.
And it was admittedly beautiful nevertheless. I lie there in the sun.
But then I thought to myself - I remember it distinctly - 'I wish I were dead.' And I sat there with the thought knowing full well how happy someone would have been to be me in that moment. But I wasn't.
Today I grabbed two Target bags filled with trash: one with used menstrual pads and kitty litter dust, another with used dental floss, empty toilet paper rolls, and cat shit, and I carried them out to the dumpster. It was under 90 degrees outside & for that I was thankful. There was hardly a breeze.
The cicadas took turns chirping. If you haven't heard cicadas, they do this, like a musical round. One set of cicadas in a tree will chirp and then the sound will die out before another tree begins to sing and again to the next tree and the next.
I tossed the two trash bags over the dumpster lid, the menstrual pads, the cat shit, & I stood there & listened to the cicadas.
And I did not wish I were dead. I thought, instead, thank god I can hear these cicadas. Thank god I am alive to hear this & to have cat shit to throw away because it means I have cats.
And then I went back inside my home where two of the three cats were sprawled out on the couch with the TV on playing WWE Monday Night Raw.