my first dive into creative nonfiction
topics that are included in this edition:
‘dread’ - dread as a monster
‘trapped’ - the worst job i ever had
‘social anxiety training’ - overcoming my fear of meeting new friends
‘aristocats’ - how i think my house cat views wild cats
dread
dread as a monster
I refreshed my email. Seconds turned to hours, and hours into days. Dread peered in, glaring at me in the darkness.
Did I get in?
I had become a parasite, his parasite, feeding off of his poison. I yanked the refresh lever again, injecting myself with another dose.
No, I didn’t.
Putrid intoxication seeped into my veins. I jittered.
I had become a parasite with a dying creature, a creature whose twisted, dark appendages swallowed me whole, held me hostage, blinded me with his laborious embrace. His validation substituted all the years I lived without love. Dimes for pennies, I offered up my heart in exchange for his dark soul.
But why?
Did I not deserve love? Was dread cosplaying as karma for all selfish decisions I had made? Like a Santa Claus that came for misbehaved children?
I deserve love.
Dread closed in on me, tightening his grip.
I am worthy!
I couldn’t let him win. I fought, flailing my arms against his grasp to close the email, and scrambled out my door into the sun. I saw the world again, anew.
Dread melted away. I saw the grass flowing freely in the wind, the passer-bys scurrying along, the birds chirping their tunes. I could move freely again, no longer trapped in the fetal position in front of a screen.
Why had I let dread take over me? Why did I let it come back?
In the corner of the unassuming tree skeleton’s shadow stood Dread. He waited patiently for his next victim.
trapped
the worst job i ever had
“Nancy, how’s your day?”
“Good. Yours?”
“Good. The weather’s nice today.”
“Yeah it is.”
Awkward silence. We avoided eye contact as if it was an inverse game of chicken – one in which the first to look would lose. If there was any semblance of human connection, it was all constrained inside the tiny half-hour check-in meeting rectangles on my calendar. Meetings so meaningless they didn’t deserve to occupy those precious pixels of time.
I performed the trusty tasks of waking up in the day, going to work, and going back home every day that summer like a robot programmed to complete her pre-trained set of tasks. My soul hardened a little bit each day, each smile harder to hold, each greeting more laborious to muster, each word uttered dissolving a bit of soul.
I was a bird trapped in my owner's google calendar prison hell. For every attempt to fly out, the invites bucked in, burying me. In the distance, I saw my wallet. I saw it growing. I saw my owner tuck a large stack every few weeks. The novelty quickly faded as I could no longer discern the thickness of the wallet anymore. I focused on the world outside in its full commotion. But for what purpose if I’m trapped here?
When the summer ended and I was set free, it took a while to remember to fly again. I had become so used to being fed by my owner in my cage that I had forgotten how to take flight.
I became free from the birdcage but was now trapped on the ground.