everything means something else
by hurricanejessica
Example A:
Yesterday was International Pancake Day at the International House of Pancakes/Happiness. Because of this, when I went to IHOP at 11 pm to gorge myself on grease and buttermilk, they were out of the following:
creamer for coffee, maple syrup, cheddar cheese, and sour cream.
This made my order of bacon, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and chive potatoes with a short stack of pancakes difficult to produce.
Every element of my meal had something missing. But this I am used to because every day, every minute, you are noticeably missing:
the cheddar cheese not on my potatoes
the reason my coffee is black.
“We don’t have any creamer,” my waiter winced. I could tell all day he had been forced to let people down, to bring them bad news regarding their desires. And in turn they most likely became angry at him as if he had destroyed all the creamers, one by one, by himself. I could picture him laughing, striking the little plastic single serving creamers with a hammer, wiping cream from his brow. “Do you still want coffee?”
“I’ll make do,” I replied much to his relief.
I drank the coffee, black with sugar, unable to ignore the metaphor, hoping that one day I won’t want you to swirl into my life and dissolve, an opaque wave that smooths and makes rich my harsh reality. Hoping one day, I’ll enjoy the bitterness.
My mouth will get tough.
I’ll like it lonely.
Example B:
Today I had gelato for lunch because: fuck you, life, fuck you. And because: whatever will bring me closer to happiness, right? And because: have you got a better idea? Well, have you? I didn’t think so. And because: I don’t have many appetites these days so I allow myself these things.
“If you can’t come, it’s not the end of the world.”
There. Right there. I should have known then and there.
