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Issue
Ten: Free Write
Scintillations
The Beach
Remembering
You
Julie Day
Current Events
Sex And The Country
Stirring Up The Dust
Letter to My Younger Self
More
Letters To
Younger Selves
Moody Girl
Photography
Cover:
Box of Skeletons
Hello
Pipe
Hive
Clouds
Pegasus
In Ireland
Subway
Guy
Poetry
Spring
A
Lesson In Wholeness
A
Child's Light
The
House That He Built
Summer
Night
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Future Issues
Issue Eleven: Play
Issue Twelve: Synchronicity
Bonnie Redmond
What in the hell am I writing for? I know already that I'm trying to write my way out of this mood. But this mood is definitely not writing-soluble. (Doesn't that word mean SOLVABLE? Probably…) The world keeps spinning slowly every single day all the way around and I am still in the same spot. I spy myself at 7:34 or so every morning on the same stretch of freeway where I need to put down my visor to keep the sun from blinding me – or maybe just crank up the speed of the windshield wipers to wipe away the dreary rain. I am on my way to a job that does not solve my problems. It brings in money, but not enough to pay for everything. I miss by hundreds and hundreds of dollars every month and make up the difference on credit cards that have astronomical balances, but I still hope please, please, please do I have enough credit left to pay these latest red hot bills? Please? I find myself wishing for not even a huge amount of money, but just enough so that I can go to Costco and stock up on stuff with no guilt and no worry. Or that I can replace my ANCIENT, threadbare, faded clothes. I HATE feeling like this! I hate feeling poor! I hate feeling pathetic and depressed and desperate and hopeless. Without hope what is the point? Every week I leave the stupid bank with a sour look on my face. At least this time they didn't have to tell me that I was overdrawn, like that irritating woman did two weeks ago. Oh, that's why they're called "tellers", because they have to tell you that bad news all the time. "Your balance is negative sixty five dollars"… INSTANT COMPLETE PANIC CONFUSION CHAOS ANGST!!! But isn't "angst" a long, drawn-out kind of shitty feeling? You can't have instant angst, can you? Screw it! Now I'm censoring my moody freaking words! CRAP! This sucks and it's not getting any better and when I saw that tiny light of hope ahead of me I cursed the pinpoint of gleaming light for getting in my eyes. Cursed it for giving me hope and leaving all of the heaviness floating around me nowhere to land, nowhere to rest, nowhere to exist. Once again it's not okay for me to feel however I feel and not feel grateful. I don't feel grateful right now. I'm sorry. Sorry I'm not happy with my new situation in life. Is it better than where I was two months ago? Yes. I admit that much. But, it's not better than my life a few years ago – another ungrateful era in my life. Hmm… I wasn't really all that happy back then either. What in the hell am I doing to myself?
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