invisible: a saga

i drive to the store in my messy old car, not caring that the trash in the passenger side is spilling over into the driver's side. it won't matter anymore, after tonight. nothing will matter anymore, after tonight.

the flourescent lights make the blue veins in my hands look even more prominent as they clutch the black handle on the cart. i wheel it slowly through the produce aisle like any normal shopper would, picking things up and putting them back down. baby carrots...i don't need baby carrots. little fruit cups...i fight back tears as i place the stupid thing back on the shelf. i pick up my pace as i make my way towards the other end of the store.

i take an inordinate amount of time in the wine aisle. red? white? pink? pink wine? really? what does pink wine even taste like? pink wine seems appropriate. how much does it cost? does that even really matter, right now? one of the employees walks by at a snail's pace and gives me the eye, as if it is odd for a well-dressed young woman with bloodshot eyes and an empty cart to be buying wine on a friday night. screw off, asshole, i think. you know nothing, and you can just keep on walking. i put the bottle of pink wine in the cart and make my way to the cashier.

"wine matches your coat," she says as i show her my ID. i try to smile but the tears fight it away. i'm sure she thinks i'm a well-dressed alcoholic who has fallen off the wagon, but again, i don't care, and she doesn't know my story, and she's just another face in another place. she has her own story, and i'm sure that in another world, i would love to hear it. but right now, i only have one goal, and the first step to that is getting out of here with this pink bottle and getting back home. i swipe my visa and walk out, $30 poorer and one bottle of wine richer. i don't even like wine. i hope i'll be able to finish it.

i make my other stop and head home. home. what a sad word for this place, i think. i remember what i recently thought of as "home." somewhere i will never, ever be again. a place i will miss sorely for eternity. a safe place that isn't even really a "place." for now, though, i struggle to unlock my door, and let myself in my apartment, and welcome myself to the only home i have.

i take off my pink vintage-sofa patterned coat and lay it on the floor. i sit on my bed with my wine and other things and look into my closet. the trunk full of shoes spills over on to the floor and mingles with some shirts that i don't have the energy to hang up. the floor is littered with papers and yogurt containers. my phone is somewhere in there, the battery long dead. my computer is on, the e-mail program up. i am tempted to give it one last look, but it will only confirm what i don't want to know.

i realize that i look pretty rough and get up and head to the bathroom. my hair is a mess. i pick up the scissors and go to work, making my bangs short. i always wanted short bangs. soon, the sink is full of hair and my face is framed with fringe. i look like a baby doll. i put on some make-up. i find a new t-shirt in the drawer, one i was supposed to wear on a trip, that never fit before. i guess losing my appetite had some advantages. i look in the mirror. sadly, i finally think i look good. i sit on the bed again.

i open the bottle of wine and take an experimental sip. gross. i knew it would be gross. i have to drink it, though. i guess that's what i get for choosing a wine based on my favorite color.

there are so many things i want to say, but i fear that i have said them all already, and they are met with resistant ears. i tried so hard. i am not what you think. tomorrow...i think. i can say it all tomorrow.



note to readers: this is the "other half" of a story i wrote and am trying to get published in the literary journal at my school. unfortunately, i can't publish that actual story here, because posting it online counts as "publishing" it, and then it wouldn't be eligible for publishing in the literary journal. i'll keep everyone posted on whether or not the thing makes it in. the original was much better, in my opinion. shorter, and more emotional, and just...better. more revealing, more to the point.