she said, oh my god sixty-one million fans
and not a single one knows to leave me the
hell alone. mother shut the television off
then and pointed to the screen with the
remote. do you see this, she said to me, this is
not having appreciation, not having gratitude.
remember what counts, won’t you? you
texted me at two a.m. that was the only
time you were available. you were always
out because you couldn’t stand the misery of
some things. you said it like you were doing it for
someone else’s benefit. i listened like you weren’t.
do you ever wonder why i did it? why i stayed
up so late just to type a couple sentence fragments?
why i drowned the drowsiness with energy drinks? i
wanted to remember it all. alcohol doesn’t do that.
it isn’t kind to you the way red bull is, let me tell
you. it made me feel alive. oh my god how alive i was!
i thought it mattered. i thought it meant something.
now i only miss you when i smuggle a cupcake or two
from the fridge or when i can’t sleep. it feels nice to
wake up for myself instead of you. we’re f***ed. we
are so gloriously, so magnificently f***ed. i don’t miss
you at all. my tongue buzzes with the honey of north
dakotan bees and not you. my eyes burn with the glare
of the caribbean sun and not a digital screen. my thumbs
twiddle by themselves. i only remember what counts.