Cookies? Perhaps, a purple dress?

COOKIES? Like I have a choice. YES. Let me see those dresses now. Not like I’m buying anything. At least on websites there’s no shop clerk asking me anything. They ask me if I accept cookies but whatever. Take my data Google. I don’t care. Send me more ads for beautiful dresses on Facebook. At least this way I leave a track of my existence. Yes, I existed, I’ve been around this capitalistic machine at some point in time, and my data was used for their grand marketing schemes. I’m so important.

My mom named me Carrie after Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the city, she wanted me to be glamorous and successful, but honestly, I’m more of a Stephen King’s Carrie, without the supernatural powers and revenge plot. My dad was hers Mr. Big, but he never assumed anything, not even in the end. I guess I got that in common with Carrie Bradshaw, and that I would also love to buy shoes and all kinds of clothes, but I don’t have her money, to be delusional I’ll say, YET. But who knows, I refuse to let reality to sink in, I prefer to wake up in the morning and lie to myself. That everything is ok, that I am so pretty, so skinny, my skin so clear, my poetry volume is so successful, they’re just in vacation and didn’t see it yet, all eight publishing houses. Whatever. Whatever keeps your boat floating, and I guess it worked, I survived the 27 club by two years already! An accomplishment truly. I saw some meme on Instagram, they say it’s a study, but me, a woman of culture I know it’s a joke, anyway, apparently living in delusion can add up to 27 years to your lifespan. I can’t wait, 27 years added to my 27 or whatever, because who knows really how much I got left, 27 more years to dream my life away. Hopefully I am retired by then so I can look at one fixed point off the ceiling, in peace. And who says that’s not a real life. I live it very intense. I can provoke myself to feel both love and heartbreak, no one can tell me it’s not real.

I try to reach the world in front of me but I feel like it slips through my fingers every time I try. I’m just stuck behind a wall, behind a screen, that offers me cookies from time to time, and I have no choice but to accept. Every time I tried to get involved in my life, it ran away from me. I dislike deterministic beliefs, but after 29 years of trying to provoke the big boulder of chance, I surrender. I was made to observe this world. And take notes. But it really hearts when you think that at least staying in the shadow is your purpose, but the sun is coming up to catch you and burn you. I’ve been trying for so long to publish my mediocre poetry. I get it it’s not so good, but I don’t think it’s that bad either. I mean, I guess as an artist you have to be a little bit confident about your work, otherwise you wouldn’t do anything, if you keep second guessing yourself, over and over. There’s a public for any kind of art these days. I’m hurt. I’m really thinking to quit. When I get verses in the back of my mind, I’ll just let them flow away from now on. I will be a shopping machine, and no other thoughts and prayers. A perfectly happy citizen of the world that wants nothing more but to work and buy. I don’t even want to think. No thinking. Just browsing. Thank you. I want to scroll satin clothes in peace tonight. I will go to sleep thinking if I want a V neck or a square neck. Nothing else matters. Why suffer anyway that I am not successful in anything. So many people before me and after me will shadow this world for nothing. And getting a volume out with some feelings on paper is not a legacy anyway, the sun will die, we’ll die before the sun anyway. Why all this dread. Life is beautiful anyway. I can look at things online, buy something when I get my salary. I can go get coffees and eclairs and look at two trees and a patch of grass in the middle of a town. Everything is fine, everything is great.

OH! Oh, look at this one, so beautiful, I’m going crazy girls. I’ve never had a purple dress. I wonder if the colour would suit me. Hmm, maybe it’s a bit too elegant? I don’t go to any events, no one invites me, I barely know anyone.  

I see them. I see all these girls on Instagram, wearing pretty dresses, having their makeup done so nice, eating well, enjoying life. It must be nice having that kind of job, just being a pretty girl. I wish it could be me, I wish  I was born under a lucky star like them, I wish I didn’t have to slave this life working for some big corporation, having to be a good little ant. Me and my back office support job against the world, it’d be nice if I get a bonus, maybe I should get the purple dress then. Why I have to think thrice if I can buy a nice dress online to pretend I’m someone else for a picture? I really don’t have a place to wear it, it’s too beautiful for me, and expensive. But maybe the occasion appears if you have the dress, maybe your life will change miraculously when you have the right cloth, maybe I should just buy it, just do it. There’s no ecofriendly girl behind my back to judge me how I’m not buying ethically, why I support factory workers in China so much when I could support Becky next door selling her dead nana’s clothes. So what if it’s expensive? I will just eat less, it will even help me lose weight getting the dress, I should even order a smaller size, to push myself. Push myself to be better. I’m full of envy. That’s what’s keeping me this plump. ‘cos I envy, I envy all these people doing things, all these girls getting whatever they want. I wish it was me. I wish tonight in my dreams, a black goat with a top hat would come, like in that movie, and lure me to sell my soul to live deliciously. I want a pretty dress, and to eat fat butter and be thin. “What do you most desire pretty girl? Cookies? Perhaps, a pretty dress? Do you want to be popular? What are you willing to do for it?” I don’t know, I can’t do shit. I can supervise orders in an ERP system, sometimes verses come into my head and I put them down on a piece of paper, I can imagine my own death, but I probably don’t have enough energy to sell my soul for money. I think all these girls are probably empty, that’s why they have it all, there’s space. Why am I so mean? I only see an appearance after all, maybe they all secretly have cellulitis too, and really bad nightmare, I can’t be this judgemental and beg the Gods for butter. I guess, there’s always a thin line between hate and admiration. What if the dress really is magical after all this thinking? HM.

I miss going to work. If I’d say this out loud, I would be killed with stones, I know. But hear me out. I miss going to the office so I can see the colleague in front of me. I have no idea why I have to talk to myself constantly like there’s an audience listening to me. Maybe I am losing my mind after all, if I truly lose my mind then I should really get that dress, so I can be the prettiest girl at the looney bin. Anyway, I wonder what he’s up to. Probably taking his cool girlfriend, that I occasionally stalk online, to nice restaurants, and then enjoying proper human connection skin to skin. I can’t even remember the name of it. Whatever. Oh, but the dress would look so good on her when’ s he’s taking her to that rooftop, maybe if I get the dress I would get on a rooftop too, not with him I guess, cos he’s taken already, but who knows some guy out there has to like plump girls. The dress would make it all. I could wear the dress at my book launch, if I get a book launch, I didn’t even get a rejection email. It’s been two months. Maybe the dress would attract the book launch or maybe I should get the dress if I get a book launch. Maybe in the next life I’ll be cool enough for all. My next life starts when the dress gets delivered. HELL YEAH DELUSION. I wonder if she would be comfortable knowing he smiles to me from time to time, okay it’s more of a smirk. I don’t know how I would feel about it, if my guy would smirk at the office with nerdy girls. I should just sleep, maybe the dress will follow me in my REM state and fix all my circuits. I hope I get that bonus tomorrow.

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I got the bonus from work this month, now what? You know what, I’ll buy the dress. Whatever, I’ll just get it. I will even order it from my phone browser. COOKIES? Yea, yea, I accept. OH NO, it’s sold out. :(

I am so sad, what do I do? This is terrible, it feels like a tumour in my brain, I have to get it, something good will happened if I get that purple dress, I just know it, I can feel it.

Oh. A new email! I hope one of the publishing houses answered, oh it’s just a coupon for the website. Maybe I should get a different dress, maybe in a different colour, like green. Yeah, green is nice, green is lucky. I will order it. I deserve it. And whatever comes with the dress. Hopefully something new, something better