Fagel (fragglebeliever) wrote,
Fagel
fragglebeliever

Doom!

I am in this big room of doom. I can’t get out of it, see. It’s just a big but kind of narrow room. It can be a good one or it can be a shit one with the ceiling falling out, but not an escape roof, just bad architecture. Oh, what do I do! I don’t have anyone’s numbers written down or memorized so I can’t make a phone call. I have no money so even if I did, I can’t make the pay phone cooperate, even though you keep pressing zero like a million times. I exhaust myself and sit on the floor, which turns into lying down on it. I put my legs up, but to no avail, nothing helps. I am helpless. I have no friends, no support, no love other than my own, and I hug myself like a scared roley poley. What is the technical term for that insect? I’m sure it has to exist somewhere in the encyclopedia. Well anyway, my mother kept my encyclopedia so even if I wanted to look up the technical species genus name, she wouldn’t allow the research to continue further than that. Suddenly, a man came into this room. He was stuck in there too, and thought and did the exact same series of things I just went through. I could tell because it was written allover his face. It was written on his shirt too, “I am just like you”. I knew I could relate with this man. As he met me on ground zero, we turned out heads towards one another and smiled a grin. We were stuck; we had no friends, no support, no money, no food, no life. Our life was this, from now on. I thought it only fair to speed up things and get my name out. “I’m Vanessa!” I cried, only realizing that it’s impolite to yell on a first meeting. “I’m Paul” Paul said, calm as tea. I immediately thought how I had never met an Paul before so I asked for his last name. “Paul” he said again. “Your name is Paul Paul?” I thought this person was sent from lord and heaven already. “ Yeah. I mean, what? No.” “What is your name?” “Paul Auster” Oh. Oh. “Oh, Paul-Auster” I separated. It felt better to know he was Paul Auster and not this magical Paul Paul. He didn’t ask my last name so I didn’t tell him my name was Vanessa Vazquez and until years later when it came up by accident as I was being introduced to a large group of people. I knew this man was impressed by me because he kept speaking to me. You know, just because one is stuck in a room, doesn’t mean one has to say anything, you know. The room was still helpless, but I felt like I still had some weird assistance. I think he did too, which is why we instantly fell in love. However, our love was not enough to get us out of the room so Paul and I began to stop talking. In fact, we built a physical barrier with our bodies so that we couldn’t look or talk to each other. But since the barrier was built with our bodies, our only resource, we could definitely feel each other there. It stayed like that for a year. I can’t turn around unless he does. If I turn around one more time and find him still stiff as a barrier, I would not be able to bear this room anymore and I would have nothing. If he doesn’t look back, if he quits me, then he can forget about my weight holding up his half of our barrier of silence. He’ll fall down too. We’re not so different. The more I hate him, the more I love him. He can never leave the mindset of the room because the fact is that we are still trapped in here. It’s sad knowing that the only way out of the room is to build enough love or to have someone else bail us out. Bail costs like, $4,000.00 dollars though so, I don’t believe anyone loves either one of us enough to do that. I don’t think anyone can stand either one of us, really. If that’s too self-depricaitng for your taste, then you’re absolutely right I should be punished. Life’s no fun when you’re stuck in a room and you’re making a physical barrier with your body with someone who forgets about you everytime.





Tags: last squabbles of the year
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