witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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I go to the movies alone. The theatre is as empty as I had hoped. They’re playing a classic.

Mae West teddies across the screen, the tassels of her dress brushing past her breasts. Her small pursed lips make all her curves seem more ample. Glossier. Rolling through each scene tight but untethered. Like a steel marble skipping across hardwood.

My mom calls my best friend to see if I’m alive. I call my best friend to check the same thing.

At night I respond to old men who want to buy me plastic treasures that will outlive me.

I am not the steel marble. I’m the hardwood floor.

1:02 a.m. - Wednesday, Dec. 20, 2017

Then - Now