Girl News - Girls and Giving Up
My face is so hot. I am so sick. Waking up, I knew my throat-of-knives would feel better in an hour, after I’d popped a cold Coke Classic (did you know that you can do the 90210 orig theme song anytime at all if you have two unopened Cokes? “Dunna dunna, dunna dunna, PSHHH PSHHH!”) but in the moment it’s just you and your hot head and your throat-knives, heavy on a pillow, being the fuck done with life. I gived up, I think, for now. Also heeeeey welcome back to Girl News after I hiatused forever, because while I was technically happy in an Excel-formula way, I was also shaking with some gnarly existential WTFs. Working felt like a hilarious, complicated joke.
Also: how long can you be “having sad times” or “going through something” or intermittently—like, three days a week?—spending six hours waking up and infinity more hours barely getting through your basic 9 to 5 stuff, and getting sick every week, and having allergic reactions to thinking, before the No Wave of moods climbs up on itself, all skinned hands and knees, from your subtext to your text? Because the A plot of the narrative of my month, and months, has become one of uncommon duress, a consuming blankness and a dangerously slippery knife-handle (different than throat-knives, which I just have because of this cold/flu/Paleolithic anxiety taking over my human self; ‘tevs, my mom is out buying me oranges right now).
So, wait, again: how long can you be sad and bored and done before you just… give up? It’s extra pronounced when usually you go like six, ten, 28 days as smooth as a cartoon bird. And it’s been much longer that I’ve been in the very plum-middle of being, like, “Wait, what?” all the time. I think it’s called “constant shock,” when your circumstances are so shittily-perceived-by-you that you just can’t fucking believe it. “Wait, WHAT?” A bad while used to be kind of fun because melancholy feels good, and then everything after is so much better, but then there’s this kind of time when there’s no after, when you don’t understand any choice or any reality as yours anymore, when you are literally repulsed by the way you thought you wanted to be. And then all your friends Gchat you like, “How’s that thing going?” meaning when you were irritatingly, averagely depressed-seeming (except, it’s not “depressed,” it’s “shocked”) and you have nothing useful to say about it. Giving Up is for when you arrive somewhere in your life that feels different to you than it is supposed to feel, I think. And you have to give up to care again, right? RIIIIGHT?