Crying in a taxi is dumb.
I know this right, but tell that to my emotional and tired self when hot liquid is spilling from my eyes as I make my way to work.
In all honesty, this was just a result of underlying factors. I woke up feeling off and the pain in my side hadn’t moved. It didn’t get worse, but it was still there. I’m scared shitless to go to the doctor, because there are so many things already wrong with me and I am afraid to confirm another.
Leaving the house that morning it was dewing and I did my best to get a taxi before the onslaught. After getting to the town however, some jerk off runs straight into my already inflamed side. Why? Because he was chasing a passenger. Sigh. I silently strode away only to hear jerk off #2 exclaim that if I had my other arm I could’ve pushed him back. Sigh.
Once again I say nothing, because when is there ever an appropriate response to ignorance.
Upon getting a taxi for work now, there is a nurse screaming at the driver that she only has four minutes to get to work. The headphones get turned up at this, and I simply warn the driver not to speed with me in the vehicle and the nurse glares at me. I ignore her.
The tears come flooding then and all I can do is text my sisters because they’re the only ones up at that ungodly hour. I also didn’t have a rag, and I was sniffling and my shirt was getting wet and I wanted to go home.
This to me is unrequited love: when the unnecessary and cruel comes so blatantly and unwanted. It is free flowing patrony and I am made to be important only through your simplicity. I don’t love it, nor do I love you and this unrequitedness is not felt by two. This unrequitedness is aimed at you and your walls high that keep sense out. Maybe I needed to cry, not because I cared about the hurt people spit out, but because hurt is inevitable and tears are the weapon to rid the mind of its residue.
Nine down, forty-three to go…
PS. Whirlwind Magazine published my poem MONOPOLIZED.
Click to check it out!