day 5 of not hearing from my wife. the last message was simple, “working the night shift.” now her employer is holding onto her phone like it’s some sort of trophy. wallah, nobody understands the pressure of waiting by my phone in this tiny studio apartment that feels bigger than it is, filled with memories of us. my friend’s wife got flowers and a raise this week, while I just scroll through the ...
it's not that i have a problem with wearing my name tag to the local grocery store—it’s just that they pay me in store credit and only for five hours of overtime a week while giving me the middle finger on holiday pay; also, why is my manager reminding me to "be cheerful" while i help the customer with the coupon she doesn't understand—when inside i’m just dying because “hello, sir, it’s 2023 and ...
its 10pm and my ex calls, asking how it feels to be "under investigation" like I'm some criminal instead of a parent. fast forward two days and there’s a CPS worker in my living room, looking around like she’s on an episode of Hoarders. I'm sweating bullets trying to explain why there's a stack of dishes and why my kid's favorite snack is peanut butter from a jar. but sure, the state has this really weird system that allows people to make accusations from the comfort of their couch while I’m left proving I don’t beat my kid over their “eating habits.” my kid finally bursts out that sometimes we have donut for breakfast, and I see the worker jotting that down like I’m auditioning for Worst Parent of the Year. it felt like playing a game of Bingo where instead of calling out numbers, we list...
its 10pm and my ex calls, asking how it feels to be "under investigation" like I'm some criminal instead of a parent. fast forward two days and there’s a CPS worker in my living room, looking around like she’s on an episode of Hoarders. I'm sweating bullets trying to explain why there's a stack of dishes and why my kid's favorite snack is peanut butter from a jar. but sure, the state has this really weird system that allows people to make accusations from the comfort of their couch while I’m left proving I don’t beat my kid over their “eating habits.” my kid finally bursts out that sometimes we have donut for breakfast, and I see the worker jotting that down like I’m auditioning for Worst Parent of the Year. it felt like playing a game of Bingo where instead of calling out numbers, we list...
day 47 of my shower becoming a second home because that's the only place it feels okay to cry without anyone hearing me. just checked my account and there's enough for ramen but not for laundry, which means wearing my work clothes another week, praying they can stretch through one more go. meanwhile, influencers post those 'morning routine' videos, like real life isn't a series of “let’s hope toda...