• today I spent most of the day sitting on the couch playing xbox skipping my classes and hating myself. around 3 pm my housemate came home and began making salsa in our kitchen. I said hey and proceeded to zone out, watching the rain hit the window. 

  I really hated myself today. most days I feel pretty indifferent about myself, and devote most of my headspace to liking other people. but today all I could focus on was the self loathing welling up inside me. I skipped class. my employer hadn't called me back with holiday hours. the short story I submitted in int fiction the day before was so badly editted and riddled with gramatical errors, I could no longer look at it. 

  around 3:10 my housemate said my name and I blinked. "hey" I said. again. 
  she said "I think I'm an aromantic." she said this while chopping bell peppers in the kitchen. her hair was blacker than obsidian and pulled away from her face. 

  of course, I heard "aromatic." so I said, "you do smell very nice. like ozone and daytime rain."

  she began to cry. 

  "no." she said. she turned toward the refrigerator. “maybe not aromantic, but surely asexual, I don't know, I don’t know why or how."

  asexual. my eyes rested on our basil plant outside, saturated and green. It looked very happy to be in the rain. my housemate followed my gaze. "oh god." she said in a tremor. "I'm not a fucking plant, dan." 

  "but I think you'd make a lovely plant." I said. "you could be a cactus flower. or a pond lily. or a redwood tree or a poppy.” I turn off the xbox. “it’s illegal to pick those in California,” I said as an afterthought. she made a strained sound and slapped a palm over her eyes. I couldn’t read her expression.

  “you can be whatever plant you want, really.” I try to emphasize this point. “you’d still be one of the best people I know. or plant I know. whatever.” she began to cry harder and I began to worry I was being insensitive and very un PC.  I stood up and made it to the kitchen in two leaps.

   “it’s not really like that.” she said. 

  fuck. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t really know anything about what it’s like. 

  “tell me what it’s like. also, can I taste test the salsa?" 

  she rolled her eyes. the salsa tasted spicy and sweet and amazing. she left the kitchen and returned with some basil from outside. “it’s more like I’m metal. sterile. barren. metal.” she said each word in the same tempo as the staccato rain drops on the roof. “it’s like no one will love me like this.”   

  words stuck to the roof of my mouth. you are loved you are loved you are loved, please please please believe me

• again, i have no idea what's going on here but I enjoyed the experience of reading it nevertheless. You sound like a magical and whimsical creature IRL.

  Fallen Leaveson December 06, 2014   Link

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