The State of Affairs in Michelleville

1/1/12     6:55am

(sigh…) I feel sad.

The last of my guests left an hour ago and I just finished posting pics online. I’m sitting in my chair watching the sunrise out the window. Zoe is playing. Mom’s asleep and Margaret’s online.

I feel sad. Tonight I had a party. Another in a long string of annual ones. Sober game nights with specific friends. I got dressed up. I felt really pretty. We had food and played games and laughed. And of course banged on pots and pans. I shouldn’t feel sad but I do.

There was a little girl here tonight. She was no less than disturbed. She was telling us all about her 5th grade life – specifically the people she hates and their drama. I’ve never felt so old. I had nothing relevant to tell her and was honestly bored. As the night went on we all grew more concerned and disturbed. That child is fucked up, possibly dangerous. I’ve heard a lot of things but I’ve never heard a 10 year old talk so vividly about her need to kill specific people in planned out ways. The kid is evil. And she was freakin’ out. I needed her to leave. I still feel her energy.

(deep breathing…)

I do not look in the pictures how I feel. In fact, I look like a fat hooker. Take back the sands of time.

I think what was most upsetting is that nobody texted me at midnight. No Happy New Years, no FB posts. I didn’t send any midnight texts because Mags was here and my friends were gigging. My best friend disowned me this year and my other friend’s in Ohio. I know it’s annoying to get bombarded with holiday texts from random people, but not even one? The State of Affairs in Michelleville.

I am tired, and I feel sad, and I think my contacts are stuck to my eyes. The pirates came and left without me and I feel sad. Quiet. Sad.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2012

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.