vomit

i am sick, i am spiteful, i am unpleasant

i ate raw potato last night. just a couple of bites. it was my father who’d done them, the french fries. i didn’t have the heart to tell him i was crunching straight through starch so i shut up and swallowed. i woke up feeling like shit.

i want to write a poem after kaveh akbar titled portrait of my lover as an alcoholic but i guess it should start with portrait of my father as an alcoholic and it would go something like: the apple was rotten when you took a bite, that’s why you’re leaning over the basin, hurling your guts out as if that’s all you’ve got to give: a parody of its upheavals. i’ll get to it eventually.

my periods have become explosive. i go insane and fight with everyone. my face erupts into a sierra of spots that i pick and squeeze and make angry and red until there’s blood and puss all over my fingers and cheeks. i cry over being told what to do. i cry over being ignored. i get physically ill, hot and enraged.

my father has something that many people have said they would rather die than have. i have heard people say this to my face. it’s the worst thing that i can ever imagine happening. i say its ok actually, it’s just life. but my patience evaporates. i get snappy and brood in my room. it’s hard when it’s your own dad. the apple, the tree… it’s hard not to think about. and what does this say about death and dying? that there’s something worse than death? i love mulling on that one. i’ll get to it eventually.

i nap on the sofa with cold sweats coursing through my body. i reject any attempt at intimacy or camaraderie coming at me. i want to listen to music but there’s no song that wouldn’t annoy me right now.

i change into a tank top, sweating through my brother’s baggy t-shirt. my dad walks into the room and i clutch the shirt to my chest. what, it’s fucking boiling in here.

of course i’m fucking angry.

i want to punish those around me. i want to really push people to their edge. i want to test their loyalty. i want to provoke people into despising me. i want to disgust.

my stalker tried to contact me today. through linkedin. i hadn’t heard from him in years actually and at first it was kind of amusing to see his name pop up in my email. i felt flattered that he still thinks about me after all these years. i felt special. i smiled. i haven’t used linkedin in ages, maybe it’s the only platform i hadn’t blocked him on yet. that’s the thing with older men. they never forget about you. then i felt afraid, having my information exposed to him like that. him knowing where i work, random accomplishments from years ago, awful. i logged in and blocked him. it felt unceremonious, clicking the block button and then being redirected away from his page. i wanted there to be something, i don’t know like a big, red flashing screen or a siren sound or an explosion, anything. for a moment i think about unblocking him and sending him a message to up the ante a little, next time you try and contact me i’ll crush your balls into a pulp you fucking creep. i decide against it. i click away, open instagram.

i’ve not always done things that align with my politics. i’ve been mean, selfish, exhausted. i feel deep shame for all the things i could’ve done better. i’m so weak and imperfect. boohoo.

on the metro, a woman flicks through tiktok with the volume on her phone all the way up. a jennifer lopez song. children laughing. a bolero. splashing sounds. flick, flick, flick. i’m trying to read a book. i want to read my book. i deserve to read my book. i could quite literally punch her in the face. i shut my book with a snap and lean into her, side pushing against hers until she gets uncomfortable and shifts around, turning her phone off. fucking bitch.

a boy walks out of a supermarket with an earphone dangling out his ear. in his hand a packet of gouda cheese, pale and sad-looking. we lock eyes as he shoves a slice into his mouth. why is everyone so pathetic?

finally i put my head into the toilet and let it all rip. it comes tumbling out of me in rivulets of orange, milky vomit. i keep at it for a solid five minutes. heaving and groaning and feeling my stomach flip inside out. when i’m done i lean my forehead against the rim, feeling flushed and sticky. a steady stream of spit falling from my mouth into the warm pool of puke.