2001-04-05 || 8:55 a.m.

|| toxic girl hearts meow meow ||

i hate this business of time. of always being late. of wanting to scream when the bus driver with the aviator sunglasses and black beret decides to read the paper, pages set gingerly upon the steering wheel, until 8:13 when on all other days he leaves my stop at 8:03.

today he left at 8:01. i watched him leave. i was so close i inhaled the exhaust fumes in short gasps, hoping all those blackened noxious molecules would turn me to a pile of cinders. so i wouldn't get that awful feeling of things not working out the way they're supposed to. that feeling gives me hives. spiders crawl around in my stomach and i either want to sit on the curb and cry a bit or walk to work. or to school. or to whomever i am inadvertently standing up. i would rather turn into toxic cinders. i want to be toxic. no one wants to touch toxic things. no one wants to look toxic things in the eye. or make toxic things mad. then i can come into work late. no. not come into work at all. and i can reclaim my cat and bring her home to my apartment because everyone knows landlords are deathly afraid of toxic things. the liability, you know. and toxic girl and feisty cat can lie around, eat carrot sticks and english toffee (meow meow is crazy about the english toffee), catch up on what is going on with us, exhale inhale exhale catfood breath and toxic chemicals.

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