Home Poetry On a Mental Rush…

On a Mental Rush…

by Stephanie Alfaia

How’s Brazil? Hot; Well I’m freezing; Yeah, your choice; I guess you’re right; when do you comeback? May; I miss you; I love you; I’ll call you later, I have class in 20 minutes; Okay, bye. A quick online conversation is all it took. I knew he was mad. I should have gone to Brazil with him. What about college? There are plenty of prestigious ones there. I love New York City. You never lived with me. People deserve a second chance. Not everyone; Esther doesn’t and she never will. How could she lie to everyone’s face and manipulate a situation that would inevitably cause one’s solitude? Worthless bitch. Die. Poor Tiffany didn’t deserve half the humiliation. I didn’t deserve over a year of rejection. Fake rejection created by a heartless bitch; more like an insecure whore. Breathe; your thoughts cause your feelings. Think happy thoughts.

It is extremely tiring to be happy all the time. My mother begs to differ and she strongly sticks to her knowledge that your body uses more muscles to frown than to smile. I honestly don’t care. Say Cheese! God, I hate taking my sister to Chuck E Cheese. I wonder if the person who thought of the idea of parents bringing their devilish offspring to a closed space, that in my opinion lacks the appropriate amount of air circulation, realized the great accomplishment they have. Damn, they probably make so much money off those useless parents that can’t find a way to make their kids shut up; yet leaving them with a sitter would only make the toleration they lack for their kids more noticeable. I wish it were my case. No, I lost a bet with the little one and now off to that hellhole. Stacy is the best Rock band player. I can’t believe my father bought me that game as a late Christmas gift; meanwhile my sister wanted it all along. Share it; I don’t want it, she does; Oh, please you always played Rock Band in Florida; Yeah, but I wouldn’t waste a Christmas gift on it. Pathetic. I wanted another Yorkie, the teacup ones, perhaps a Tinkerbell. Chihuahuas are ugly; suits Paris Hilton.

Carnaval ends in Brazil today. February 25th. My father was smart enough to visit me in New York right before my birthday. Interestingly enough, he left to a two-month vacation to Brazil before Carnaval started; he conveniently missed my actual birthday on the 15th. Was it a coincidence that tickets were cheaper on the 17th, making him return to Florida early in time to pack? I’m glad Tiffany got to meet him; leaving the gym all sweaty while dad and I looked for missing Stacy on Steinway. I never walked much. He wanted to meet the others; that didn’t happen. He wanted to meet him; didn’t happen either. Not going to happen. My father almost had a heart attack dress shopping with me for my birthday dress. He picked; I picked two sizes smaller. No, he’s simply not ready.

I’ve had better birthdays; it was those last 6 drinks; poor judgment leads to dancing with the guy you used to “talk” to; my current guy watched. Who spends their birthday moving? Go get boxes; you go, it’s my birthday; so what, you think you’re special? My mom has a sarcastic tone I can’t stand. She knows when to use it; I obey just to erase that smirk. My dog ran away thanks to the moron that was moving out of our new house. I cried, hysterically. Smart dog, managed to go up three floors and bark endlessly in front of our old apartment, until the obnoxious neighbor grew a heart and took her in. “Dear 3C, i have your dog. Get her now, thanks.” What an ass. My mom thinks he’s nice; I think she’s blind. I can’t wait to get that laser eye correction she had; why only at 21? I have a theory that doctors teamed up with contract brands to make money until patients are old enough to realize there’s no point in waiting for surgery.

© 2013 Stephanie Alfaia Gomes All Rights Reserved

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