Naysay Monologue

At about 7:00 am, I was at home, wishing I didn’t have to go class. I was becoming a downer, and never like to pour my poison for others to sip on. Up until recently, I was usually pretty good about keeping my anger, bitterness, resentment, and problems to myself.

Now, only a few months into my journey to a better life disconnect notices flooded my countertops, spilling over onto the floor. Making matters worse, I sent a generous amount of emails to Trenton begging him not to destroy our family, to have mercy, or at least to sacrifice a few dollars. All but one had gone unanswered. The one I received gutted me like a fish.

It read, “Naysay, what will it take for you to see you and I will never be. I am where I want to be at and with whom
I then proceeded to cut open the toothpaste and scrape the remainder out of the bottom. While brushing my teeth, I glanced over at the one sad little sheet of toilet tissue hanging from the roll. It stared at me. It was as if it had eyes, eyes that said, “Hello Naysay, you’re such a fucking loser you can’t even afford a roll of damn toilet paper.” What would they use when they came home from school? I had grown accustomed to being less rich (less rich sounds better than dirt poor) so, because I was less rich for most of my life, I had learned to keep a stash of restaurant napkins in the case of emergency. I grabbed the stack out of the junk drawer and tossed them onto the back of the toilet.

I finished cleaning myself up, patted my tear-covered face on a towel, and headed into my bedroom. I searched my closet for a clean shirt. I hadn’t the time, energy, or money to do laundry, so everything was dirty. I pulled one from the dirty clothes pile. I smelled it, scrunched my nose, thought, fuck it, and slipped it on. I pulled out those smelly old shoes and dumped some of Justice’s baby powder in them. I slipped them on, and a white cloud of dust covered my