6:22am. The alarm goes off. Today it’s the theme from A Clockwork Orange, “The Funeral for the Queen Mary”. Take a piss. Wash my face. Go downstairs and make a half-assed breakfast. Go back upstairs and put on The Office as I eat. Take my medication: half a Klonopin and an antihistamine.
7:02am. Start getting ready. First, I slather thick concealer all over my acne, mostly around my mouth and chin. I blend that in. Mix a Clinique foundation I’m trying to use up with my white foundation because I’m too pale for even the lightest shades. Blend. More concealer. Cover up those dark circles. Powder, powder, powder. Slap on some eye shadow. Today it’s a taupe-y purple and dark brown in the crease. Almost forgot to put on mascara. Comb some blonde-colored gel through my eyebrows. Contour my cheekbones. Yes, I fake having better bone structure. Blush. Blend all of that shit. I will wear lipstick today, and it will get all over my fingers as I smoke my cigarettes.
Get dressed. Blue thong that’s stained with old blood from past periods. Black fitted yoga pants because comfort is more important to me than fashion. Bra. Bras are uncomfortable. Grey v-neck sweater. Long chain with a blood-red gem pendant. Combat boots that are beat to hell.
7:45am. Start my car so the frost can melt away.
7:55am. Light a cigarette, turn on my iPod, and hit the road. It’s cold outside but my car warms up quickly. I’m situated in an uncomfortable position in the seat, but I have a 30 mile commute.
8:15am. Finally get on 531. Wish I had someone else to drive this distance. I’m so tired and I just want to get there. Once I get off the expressway, I make a sharp left turn and head to campus. Yet another dead deer–maybe the second one? Pink and yellow mush lies in a pile next to its head and I’m fixated on this for a while.
8:32am. Reach campus. Park next to a white SUV. Light another cigarette with the car still running. Ask my friends if they’re going to the public library today.
9:05am. Nobel Laureates class. I criticize the book Voices from Chernobyl for only being one singular voice, and how it does not, in fact, strike the empathetic chord within me. My professor thinks I’m sharp as a tack. I bet he appreciates my candor.
10:00am. I talk to John about the story I read and critiqued of his. His knee is touching mine. He’s a close talker. He would never fuck me. His eyes are really fucking blue.
I have to sit through multiple anguishing group presentations. Please, please stop talking.
11:00am. Alyssa tells me that she told John about how I know that they hooked up. Her motives are questionable. I’m in an okay mood though, so I just laugh.
11:15am. More presentations, but these are more fun, since it’s my Tolkien Studies class. Someone made Lembas bread and even wrapped it up in banana leaves. It’s good. I want to save the leaf but what would I do with it? A piercing headache strikes me suddenly. My dad texts me about how my car is still leaking.
12:07pm. Get a coffee from the library cafe, using my new credit card. I’m going with the “Chocolate Raspberry Cream” today. I take it black. I go upstairs and into one of the private study rooms. I leave a sticky note that says “I can change for you” underneath the light switch. I take two pain killers and half a Klonopin.
1:39pm. I really have to pee. I want a cigarette, too. My break has been unproductive, for the most part. I’m dreading the commute back home. I’m dreading calling the mechanic yet again. I’m dreading the one-ply toilet paper in the bathroom. I’m dreading buying gas today.
1:47pm. I’m sitting on one of the park benches that circles the fountain, smoking a cigarette. It’s nice out. Way too nice for December.
It scares me.