Obsessed with Kryptonite

Loneliness Isn't Real

Hello to my obsessed fallen angels! It’s funny how I want so desperately for someone to care about me yet I honestly don’t give two fucks about anyone other than myself. I am a hypocrite. It’s ironic how I can be a social butterfly flapping my gums while not really saying much. I am a poser. My career path strays towards helping the reputation of people with mental health problems yet I doubt we will ever be taken seriously. I am a sell-out. I’m in love with the idea that someday I can have my cake and eat it too. Same goes for the power that men have over me. This guy I’m currently interested in actually has two suitors awaiting his decision apart from me. I’m not gonna hang on for dear life to find out who he finds to be his most worthy mate. Fuck that! And yet…

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Nothing Was Given To Us To Enjoy

Elan Mudrow

Photo by Kathy Richter Photo by Kathy Richter

I knew nothing very well.

In praise of nada, I adorned

No jewelry, no tattoos, no makeup

Plain white socks and a t-shirt

The walls of my home,

Decorated in a tasteful

Sense of nothing.

My food, not spiced

Not salted, not peppered.

I read books about nothing special

You can find them at any nondescript market.

The garbage, picked up on Wednesday

Recycling on Tuesday, nothing changed.

At work, nobody bothered me

They spoke of children, parties

Movies, husbands, in laws, disgruntled neighbors

A whole load of nothing interesting

It could be said that

Nothing really bothered me

I was intrigued with nothing

Or was it that nothing was intrigued with me?

I wrote a memoir, it came out of the blue

From thin air. Where else would it come from?

I found out that

I have nothing in common

With thousands upon thousands


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