I Lay Here, In My Bed, And I Think About A Very Traumatic Moment In My Life That I Think About A Few

I lay here, in my bed, and I think about a very traumatic moment in my life that I think about a few times a month.

Sergei had recently graduated and she had a boyfriend. Shocking, I know, but we’re not at the scary part yet.

Said boyfriend would often leave Sergei gifts in her room. Her room is in the basement. The basement has a shared living room next to the Sergei room. I was in the living room. I am drawing something stupid for a friend and I hear what sounds like my mother walking down the basement stairs. I prepare myself to say something stupid and I make eye contact with a lanky, eighteen-year-old man child and he has the AUDACITY to say, “Boo,” and NORHING else. I was speechless.

I do not like the fact that that man child walks like my mother. Luckily, Sergei is no longer with him and it only happened once.

Today, Sergei told me that she just realized that it’s called “stuffing,” because it is used to stuff a turkey. She is nearly old enough to legally consume alcohol. This was after she tried to cut a pie whilst holding the blade of the knife.

Today, while drinking my coffee, I casually remarked that the ratio of Tiger King ornaments to actually religious ornaments on our tree is equal. My mother found this wildly amusing.

I also noted that the cross that is tearing at the seams (literally) hangs where the cats can reach and the Jesus fish (I don’t know what it’s actually called) is in the back, also in cat reach while Joe Exotic and Carol Baskin hang proudly at the to and in the center.

My mother seems to believe that the top is the safest part of the tree. She has seen many a tree fall and the top is the first to go. I explained that the middle sides were the safest and why, but to no avail.

Any way, if the tree were to fall, Joe and Carol would be the first to go and Jesus would survive.

(No one in my house is Christian or has been Christian in less than twenty years, so I don’t even know why we do Christmas.)

Today, I was once again wronged by Emily. Why she sees reason to do this? I am unsure. She claims that I am a homophobic communist. She then told me to go back to where I came from. I am Russian and Native?? We’re in the America?? I’m not a communist?? Emily, you make me my eyes cry.

There is this guy I like next to who wears these dirty, ugly, slightly broken, yellow Crocs every. Fucking. Day. That’s not the issue. The issue is that bro’s feet are hardly in the shoe. He’s really walkin’ around, stepping on the sides. If you’re gonna wear the shoes, actually WEAR the shoes.

I have given up on trying to read the twenty-four hour clock. I do not know what time it is most of the time. Time is a construct anyway. I’m living the way the good lord, Ross Federman, intended. Timelessly.