Abra Does Something Stunningly Unusual

Although I almost never post original writing on the internet (it's generally off-limits to publishers if pre-"published"), this is the writing I composed for This Things I Believe.  But still...

I am tired and hate all of you.

 

Sec. 12101. Findings

The Congress finds that:

Physical or mental disabilities in no way diminish a person’s right to fully participate in all aspects of society, yet many people with physical or mental disabilities have been precluded from doing so because of discrimination.  Discrimination includes outright intentional exclusion, exclusionary qualification standards and criteria, and relegation to lesser services, programs and activities

***

3:00p.m.

I fell asleep at 12:00p.m. and I wake  up at 3:00p.m.  This equates to approximately 2 REM cycles, altered due to flipping on stomach; also, reaching down to drink seltzer.  Physicians recommend 7-8 hours of sleep per night but I am resetting my circadian rhythm.  My “sleep hygiene” is poor.”

4:00p.m.

I smoke in bed.  This is a fire hazard, but I’m pretty careful with it.  Cigarettes are regulated before I go to sleep.  Never has there been an occasion when I woke to no cigarettes.  I have to get out of bed, now.  Oh God, I think.

5:00p.m.

I has a job at a warehouse.  I got fired (for obvious reasons).  I make coffee at the hour when I used to get off work.  At the warehouse, I liked to stand in front of door, hoping someone would open them and hit me.  I asked co-workers to cough on me. 

6:00p.m.

I take a pill that dissolves under my tongue.  Then, I smoke another cigarette.  Then, I drink some coffee.  This should wake me up and                                             

(another trick you can use if you need to stay awake and you don’t want to do any blow is to soak your face and hair in ice cold water and rub it on our arms and keep putting handfuls over your face and hair and get your clothes wet and then you go sit in front of a fan)

then, I take another pill.

7:00p.m.

I am in the shower because I want to feel productive and I only feel productive if I convince myself I’m going somewhere.  There is a sliver of soap left.  There is also a full, unwrapped.  It’s important to conserve resources, but fuck it, I use the new soap.  I live a reckless, carefree lifestyle.

[something terrible happened, in between taking the pills i decided it was a good idea to look at these stupid letter my shitface ex-boyfriend sent me, because i thought they’d look good scanned and projected on the wall, and i got dust on my face and sometimes the pills make me itch and now i’m scratching my face for no reason but my friends are gonna come over and they’ll assume…of course…]

8:00p.m.

I buy more cigarettes.  Sometimes, I wonder if a fancy person, a fur-coated woman, would see me buying cigarettes with cash, then putting granola bars and juice on my link card and think something was really wrong with the welfare system and I’d be like, lady, you have no idea.

                                                                        9:00p.m.

I have wanted a black dress for a while now.  Since my lifestyle is impulsive and spontaneous, I decide I will buy a black dress.  The fabric will be of the draping, silk chiffon variety that flatters a slim figure.  I lost a lot of weight

(you can lose weight for reasons other than substance abuse, like maybe you’re trying to eat more fiber and less dairy or maybe you are taking more vitamins and the overhaul of thiamin is flushing the hell out of your system or maybe you just don’t feel like eating, all the time, ever)

which is a little known side effect of sleep deprivation. 

10:00p.m.

I got a dress of the clinging, fabric variety. 

[something terrible happened, i bumped into a rack when i was buying a dress, I’m serious, I didn’t make this up, it sounds like an excuse, poked myself in the bicep, and the doctor’s gonna think it’s a needle mark]

Now, I’m trying it on with assorted accessories.

 

11:00p.m.

I need a job.  Of course, I require certain accommodations:

                                   

- I cannot work before 3:00p.m.

                                                            (until I fix my circadian rhythm)

- I cannot work in an environment with scheduled lunch periods.

                                    - I cannot work with the door unlocked. 

                                    - I cannot work with other people.

                                                            (yes, Marc, you were right)

                                    - Wheelchair access.

Finding a job is hard and I hate it.  I will not work in an office environment, because I sweat too heavy.  A warehouse is out of the question, due to unwavering PTSD and my feet hurt.  My resume is chock full of lies.

12:00a.m.

I never found a job.  But I considered career options for a while.  Medical transcriptionist (too many terms, bad memory), professional taste tester (vegetarian, not hungry), and then filled out a bunch of questionnaires for paid research studies. 

I feel that I’ve let everyone down.                 ☐        ☐        ☐    ☐   

My relationships have been stormy.                ☐        ☐        ☐    ☐

I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be happy.       ☐        ☐        ☐    ☐   

I’m considering suicide.                                  ☐        ☐        ☐    ☐   

My favorite poet is Raymond Kertezc.          ☐        ☐        ☐    ☐   

I will be contacted by email or phone if I am eligible.  Since I never ate today, I drink juice.

1:00a.m.

I am so tired.

2:00a.m.

I call a bunch of people.

I call some people in LA because I want to tell them how much I hate everyone in Chicago.

I call people in Chicago, to talk about how much I hate other people in Chicago. 

I call the people I was gonna say I hated and maybe make small talk. 

Pick up your fucking phone.  It’s not that late.  I hate all of you.

3:00a.m.

I hate when I say that I’m tired and the next response is, “get some sleep.”  And when I ask, “do I look bad,” and the answer is, “you look tired.”

[something terrible is happening, i haven’t slept more than five hours in three days, my eyes are read, my words are slurred and i cough a lot, and i sometimes walk into things when this happens, and i have to hide out in my room, because i live with other people]

I hate when people complain about being tired.  Because I want to live up to my irresponsible, irrational attitude, I take the trash out.

4:00a.m.

I buy another pack of cigarettes.

5:00a.m.

I don’t know what I feel like doing.  I arrange my closet and decide to bleach some stuff.  There are some coffee stains on my white t-shirts and what if I just go ahead and splatter bleach on some dark stuff, or make interesting patterns by dipping a q-tip in bleach and using it to paint shit on my jeans?  It’s like

(contrary to popular opinion, suddenly having a lot of energy is not necessarily indicative of “uppers” and wanting to sleep 18 hours straight is not a “downers” thing, sometimes you feel that way and why aren’t you normal because everyone else does it and it should mean nothing, but because it’s you, it doesn’t work like that)

having a new wardrobe!  That no one will see!

6:00a.m.

I remember all I had was juice, today.  I need a sleeping pill.  After my sleeping pill, I can have bread, mustard and cheese but that’s all because I want my fabrics to cling and drape in the future.  So, sleeping pill, sandwich, sleep.

7:00a.m.

I am so, so fucking tired.

8:00a.m.

Still, no sleep.

***

Sec. 12102. Definition of disability

The term "disability" means, with respect to an individual:

(A) a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits one or more major life activities of such individual;

(B) a record of such an impairment; or

(C) being regarded as having such an impairment