I want to smash everything. I want to throw my television against the glass sliding door, and make sure that my body gets mixed up in the shattering of glass, so that shards of me will mingle on the floor, get swept up, and not have to worry any more.
In one of the letters, my mother sent me an Easter card. With a $20 bill inside. Dad gave me a $20 when I left. For gas, he said. Now I’m able to go to Theio’s and buy a pop so I can study there, instead of here with all the distractions. What about campus, you say? What about free parking, I say. Not until after six, I say.
After class, I will be spreading flyers across MSU.
I gnash and grind my teeth, feel the wings spread from my back, and resolve to shatter the world so that I may survive.