As I passively descend the levels of hell, a voice rings out.
βDid you want a receipt?β
No! Donβt tell me what Iβve spent or how much of that is wasted. I must go forth.
Time loops onward. I fall in love, I get black out drunk. I say things I regret. I feel fulfilled and it always falls apart. I move, I settle in but not down.
I move again, a voice rings out.
βDid you want a baby?β
I love my job, but I miss my time.
I quit my job, I miss my money.
I get a job, I visit home but never stay.
I want to die until I realize that death isnβt the saddest thing.
Living is the saddest thing, other than having a baby. No, no, I canβt do that.
I slow fade from peopleβs lives, I fade into others, a voice rings out.
βDid you want fries with that?β
No, if I gave up on being skinny, I wouldnβt be able to misquote these lyrics. I wash my face, the dog barks. I eat pickles straight from the jar, I water dying plants. I try to live ethically, I give up and buy fast fashion, a voice rings out.
βDid you really want to replay these moments for the rest of your life?β
No, not really.
I just donβt know what else to do.
Carmen E Brady writes, draws, and teaches in the rural southwestern US. Her work has appeared in Hobart, Vagabond City Lit, JMWW, and elsewhere online and in print. Twitter:Β @therealcbrad
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