Choose Your Own Adventure
(i)
Dunh. Dunh. Dunh. Dunh.
The nightclub music is pounding in your inebriated ears, the strobe lights causing your pupils to dance even though you are not. Your hands involuntarily tug your micro skirt down for the forthy-sixth time this evening. Someone may or may not have spiked your drink. You may or may not have promised sex to a spotty youth at the end of the night. Your friends (colleagues) are definitely lost somewhere in the near dark, their tarted bodies now indistinguishable from the seemingly countless other tarted bodies. You are thirty-nine and equally lost.
(ii)
You are stupid. Not slow, a bit thick or short of sandwiches. Stupid. No one says so but they have all thought it since you were five. Even your mum. Especially your mum. The few girls who have not minded your stupidity, that have even been willing to embark on serious relationships with you, have been cheated on, abused and dumped. You're that dumb. Your buddies keep you around as their fall guy, the butt. And you don't mind. Hell, you probably don't even see what's happening. That's your saving grace - you're too stupid to be unhappy.
(iii)
You've come into a world that's tired, divided and lost. It doesn't seem fair, for you're seventeen (and a half) and none of these things. You see all of the solutions so clearly but no one will listen to you. They'll talk aplenty but listen not a jot. They only have energy to talk and you are bursting with do, do, do. Some will say you remind them of their young selves, but that's a grasping, stretching, rather patethic lie. They never had what you've got.
Dunh. Dunh. Dunh. Dunh.
The nightclub music is pounding in your inebriated ears, the strobe lights causing your pupils to dance even though you are not. Your hands involuntarily tug your micro skirt down for the forthy-sixth time this evening. Someone may or may not have spiked your drink. You may or may not have promised sex to a spotty youth at the end of the night. Your friends (colleagues) are definitely lost somewhere in the near dark, their tarted bodies now indistinguishable from the seemingly countless other tarted bodies. You are thirty-nine and equally lost.
(ii)
You are stupid. Not slow, a bit thick or short of sandwiches. Stupid. No one says so but they have all thought it since you were five. Even your mum. Especially your mum. The few girls who have not minded your stupidity, that have even been willing to embark on serious relationships with you, have been cheated on, abused and dumped. You're that dumb. Your buddies keep you around as their fall guy, the butt. And you don't mind. Hell, you probably don't even see what's happening. That's your saving grace - you're too stupid to be unhappy.
(iii)
You've come into a world that's tired, divided and lost. It doesn't seem fair, for you're seventeen (and a half) and none of these things. You see all of the solutions so clearly but no one will listen to you. They'll talk aplenty but listen not a jot. They only have energy to talk and you are bursting with do, do, do. Some will say you remind them of their young selves, but that's a grasping, stretching, rather patethic lie. They never had what you've got.
posted by shannon at 3:01 AM
3 Comments:
Is number (ii) me? Hold on, no, it can't be - I don't have any buddies.
I like these a lot. I like the barely concealed misogyny (ha!) of (i) and I like the way you've captured these characters in all their glory. Great writing, too, of course.
Lots of cynicism and fiery blasting a la Lewis in this. Great stuff. I like the way you've split it too.
Didn't read the poem but know you are fantastic xxxx
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