excerpt from Or Whatever
I hang out w/ Tim on a hungover
afternoon and we spin a Joy Division
record and he tells me about accidentally
bleaching his shirt: “but that’s what happens
when you get high and do laundry,” he says
and everyone who comes in knows to yell
over the loud sad droning, it’s a kind of language
I sign up to make an account on the
freelancer portal (to receive 40 whole dollars)
and an option for the security question is:
what is the love of your life
(that does not make me feel secure)
(I am going to need a lot more money
than 40 dollars to answer that question)
you and I saw each other—I don’t think I can keep referring to you
as my ex, everyone keeps getting confused, & honestly I am too—
—for the first time since April (when you blocked me)
and it was good
until it wasn’t
I sobbed to folk music in the HOV lane on the whole way home
but before I left your place you put a mask on my face, your
fingers caressing my ears, the fabric kissing my skin and
I muttered: “are you proposing?” and you smiled
I didn’t even think to kiss you bye
I realized as I went through the door
I could have turned back (I didn’t)
***
Danielle Chelosky is a New York-based writer who has words about music in Stereogum, MTV News, and Billboard, and words about being sad and slutty in Hobart, X-Ray, and Witchcraft Mag. She studies at Sarah Lawrence College. Her tweets can be found here.
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image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 