Letter Wherein I Confess My Desires

February 21, 2021
Subject: Letter Wherein I Confess My Desires

Dear Friends,

I confess, I want to lick the sidewalk. I crave that coarse, blue rock salt they sprinkle before each snowstorm. I imagine it’ll dye my tongue electric blue, like those lurid snow cones did every year at the end of the school party. I want to roll a rock around in my mouth, slowly. Then I’ll put it between my molars and crunch.

I have a plan. I’ll put on my running shoes to make it look like I’m going somewhere and want to get there fast. With my puffy coat over my oversized, sweat-stained pajama shirt ragged from too many machine washes, I’ll head out of my apartment, waving over my shoulder to the concierge on duty as he wishes me a hurried goodnight. I will breathe in the filtered night air and begin to walk, looking for the perfect place to kneel down, release my tongue, and lick.

It’s disgusting, but I want it.

~

I've been watching The Bachelor every week. I used to think I was so unlike these women, that I'd never allow my fervent desire, my insatiable hunger, my despicable neediness and utter humanity to be shown on television for the whole country to watch. Now, I'd give anything for the people to know how completely undone I am by my desire to be held, to accept a rose, to kiss someone in a hot air balloon, to have someone kiss me in a hot air balloon.

It's terrible seeing the women cry. I want to tell them, Sweetheart, I see you! He may not, but I do! I want to tell them, Sweetheart, be more realistic! I want to tell them, Sweetheart, your gown is beautiful! I want to tell them, Sweetheart, tell a lie, he doesn’t want to hear the truth…

There's something to be said about how brave these women are. Doing all this for a chance at love? For a chance at happiness with a man they met six weeks ago on the steps of a chateau. A man who likes to exercise, a man who is apolitical, a man who is tall and strong and probably smells of cedarwood and that aftershave everyone remembers their father using. A man who wants them to be Vulnerable for no other reason than that he thinks they should be. A man who wants to know everything. He looks at them with a ferocity that at times slides into indifference. I wonder if they notice. I wonder if they like it when he looks at them like that, glassy-eyed, cradling a champagne flute with both his hands, performing rehearsed lines about his future wife being in this room.

Does he know he can break them? Is that why he looks at them like that?

~

I want to commit myself to memory.

I want to live forever, but is that so bad?

I want to hold a newborn baby in my arms, my face impossibly close to theirs and say Hi little one, welcome to earth, I’ll be your guide for a while. I want to hold my baby and realize that I can't live forever but a being that looks a little like me might.

I want my hair to grow so I can chop it all off, lick my lips, rub my bald head for luck, and walk away from what used to be into a vast nothing.

I want to watch a time lapse video of a big, orange pumpkin decomposing. I want to go to the landfill and breathe in that rancid stench of refuse, of excrement, of our collective failings. I want to let a New York City subway rat scurry over my feet. I want to go back in time and eat a purple elmer’s glue stick. I want to huff a red Mr. Sketch marker and get high off the artificial cherry scent of my 1st grade classroom.

~

There’s snow on the ground. It’s late February now, I’m in Washington and I only have a vague idea of how cold it is outside. I have read 23 books so far this year to avoid myself. I cut myself taking silverware out of the dishwasher and my thumb won’t stop bleeding. I fried 2 pieces of mozzarella cheese and stretched it as far as I could. I swear I'm going to be better at writing every day. I had a dream my mom had another baby, then a dream my parents got divorced. I think I should go to sleep.

Tomorrow I will eat, I will cornrow my hair, I will walk nowhere. I will buy fish and shredded cabbage and perhaps an avocado. I will dress warmly and watch the snow melt under the glow of the midday sun. I will do little things around the house to keep myself busy and remind myself that I am a 21st century human: sweep, open the windows, clean the bathroom mirror. Perhaps I will send an email to a do not reply address. I’m going to find something I like to do. I'm going to sing in the shower. I'm going to thaw frozen fruit and pretend. I am going to record my voice. I'm going to take pictures of myself from the least flattering angles. I'm going to call my little brother and listen to him talk about 4th grade, about Roblox and The Phantom Tollbooth. I'm going to say oh my gosh, that's so cool! and mean it from the bottom of my heart. I'm going to read all the comments on an ASMR video. I'm going to make plans for what should happen to my personal effects should I pass away. 

I’m going to lick the sidewalk. I’m going to enjoy it.

xo,

Haja