Angels and Agendas

135.0

“When were you supposed to hear back on the job?” my father asks. It’s 8pm.

“Today”, I mutter in a hoarse squeak.

“That sucks,” says my father.

I have my legs pulled to my chest, squirming uncomfortably on the sofa we share in the TV room. Just as I suspect, the tirade of questions follows: what am you going to do about rent? What is your plan? Where do you want to be in three years? Do you really still want to be a bartender by then? How far away is your bachelor’s degree from being complete? What’s the shortest route to finish it?

The already sour taste in my mouth sours more. My shoulders fold as that dark cloud settles onto them and my brain starts stirring a horrible concoction of temper, resentment, self loathing, and guilt.

I try to explain that simplifying my life into a mechanic three year plan is the quickest way to kill me, and my father asks what I mean. After all where was I going to get the means for all of these grand plans and adventures? IE, how much money was I worth to the world.

I realize it’s useless trying to talk to him, and he’s already brought my bummed out mood to an all time low, “I’m going to bed.”

I close myself in my room and turn on a radio station playing The Beatles and soon I’m moping on my bed trying not to cry as I massage my calves. I ran a solid 4 miles a few hours earlier and my body is spent. I thought it would be enough to tire out my brain, to numb my soul, but I guess I’ll have to run farther than that.

I look over and see who else but a smiling woman easing her curvy blue body into an effortless headstand.

“Krishna!” I cry, “I’ve wondered where you’ve been.”

If possible she shrugs upside-down and shakes her head, “Don’t listen to that cold-hearted man deary. He has no clue what your life is about.”

“Well, he sounded like an expert tonight”, I mumble into my hand.

She kicks her feet back to the ground and the beautiful manifestation of my creative muse plops herself on the bed beside me.

“Does he seem satisfied with life to you?” she asks with sparkling eyes.

I shake my head. My dad was recently promoted to a big wig position in his company. He’s overworked, overweight, overstressed, and quite boring. He has no friends and though my inner child resents him for being such a harsh father, my grown up self feels sorry for him. I had no intentions of following in his footsteps.

In fact I couldn’t, because my mental illness would kill me under those circumstances. Impossible.

Moral of the story: no, I don’t have a fucking plan. And at this point? I’m okay with that.

-Saint

Plan B and Broken Hearts

136.6

It’s remarkable to me how cruel people are when you are trying to obtain emergency contraception. Unhelpful and rude. They demand to see your ID, say you need to call your doctor to get the discount, the doctor says he wont, go to urgent care if you like…you finally produce your credit card after going between doctor’s office and two pharmacies, and the lady says, “Oh well we have the generic that would be nearly the discount price…” which would have saved you nearly three hours on the dreadful countdown clock because you only have the fucking 72 to take the pill.

She tosses you ID back on the counter nonchalantly. Her words are short. She doesn’t look at you. Whatever.

No, I couldn’t say no. I went to KB’s house after screaming at my sister for something dumb, and started drinking whiskey like I was dying of thirst. KB says to slow down, I say fuck him. I drank and he decided he wanted to have sex. Oral only, I say, because there’s zero birth control unless you bought condoms. Oh, I forgot, he says.

I doubt he even thought of it.

But I was drunk, and he said just a little. I’ll pull out, he said. I think this is a scene from a movie and I know it’s how stupid girls are hassled into having unprotected sex. Knowing all of this, it still happens. He pulls out like he said, but I’m thinking it’s not enough, it’s not enough.

I took the pill because I knew I never wanted to even think about the consequences. I think this is the official end of us. He is still a boy. Inconsiderate of what devastating consequences his little joy ride could cost me. Fuck that.

I don’t want to be with him, but I don’t want to break up. I almost did the other night and he started crying and I started crying, he said his parents were always leaving, always leaving.

It would be like cutting off my cancerous arm.

I leave his house on the hunt and don’t even tell him I’m going to take a morning after pill. But I do.

I start pushing KB from my mind, he texts me that he wants to have an introvert day and I’m glad about it.

I do laundry, work on my motorcycle, go to the gym.

I want to get super in fit and healthy. I want to live my dreams and not let anyone, even my best friend, destroy them. I want to get dreadlocks and be happy and bubbly and leave all of my demons behind…

…I want to find a man who is humble and not focused on possessions or looks, who wants to travel and live in warm places, who can discuss ways we disagree in a calm mature way and just for the fun of discourse. Someone who has become a man, in spite of his past. Someone who respects women. Someone who is gentle and kind to people.

I close my eyes and smile as the RUUUMMMMMM of my motorcycle kicks on. I love her dearly.

This is my life.

I’m tired of always taking Plan B because of Someone Else.