Monday, July 15, 2013

The Suitcase

Today as I was walking through my city with a suit case that belonged to my sister that I stole from my fathers apartment I imaged what the other city-goers were thinking of me, walking around like that, on the hot hot afternoon, with just a small vintage suit case and a little purse.

I image that they think I'm going somewhere, somewhere far away and possibly tropical or European. I hope that someone will ask about the suit case so I can behave nonchalant about it, or perhaps I will pretended to be excited, perhaps I will tell them I am going somewhere tropical or somewhere European, with my one, small vintage suit case.

And perhaps they won't question that it is an overnight case rather than a full suitcase, perhaps they will think I'm rich and flying over for a day or two for business. I don't look rich though. They don't know my bank account is empty, empty except for next months rent and a few extra cents I'm trying to hold on to. They don't know I'm trapped here, in this city, for the summer, fall, winter. I'm trapped until someone takes pity on me and offers me a job, agrees to hire me, gives me money...

I imagine walking into a store, placing the suitcase by the desk and asking the friendly, sweet, down syndrome woman behind the counter to take it. I don't think anyone could be unhappy in her presence. But I don't go there, sometimes I just want to be alone and a little bit miserable, things feel like they're worth more if you suffer for them.

Nobody asks about the suitcase the entire way home. I simply exist in the world with it. People look, or even stare, but they usually do, it's not new, but I feel some strong sense of purpose or determination, but also a bit dangerous, like I've actually stolen the suitcase rather than taken it from my own fathers apartment, like it is full of jewels or cash, but nobody will ever know because they won't ask. I sometimes forget how determined I can be until I actually do something just because I want to and I don't give a fuck about anyone else. I empower myself this way, take charge.

I can't actually stand to be alone this much, but there is nothing left to do in this city I can afford. There is no where I can go to escape the parts of myself I don't want to look at any more or the memories I need to forget. I want some place to be safe, to feel safe. Some places that allows me a bit of peace and solitude, but I can't find that alone anymore. I can't stand it.

I wish someone had just asked about the suitcase. 

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