I just got another message. It’s from rainbow spandex shorts. She’s such a kiwi and it makes me insecure about my corn flakes. Right, left, right, who’s next? I’m trying to find someone exciting. I’m trying to find someone to hide behind, someone fake who I can be fake with for a few hours, someone to mask all the looming fear and relentless uncertainty making slaves of my weary muscles and sunken eyes. What, ho! To the left or to the right? A prince, a pauper, another round of faces I will never meet. Another round of laughter bellowing from the crowd below me. Another round of clenched teeth and holy shit, look at his six pack. Must’ve been sculpted by Michelangelo. And damn that chiseled jawline, yes puhleez. I’m supposed to be doing work right now, not indulging in my hypnotic cellphone. I’m supposed to be laying in bed with my boyfriend, but instead he’s in Colorado and I’m here, tapping and swiping and left-right-lefting with rainbow spandex shorts and Michelangelo. This is really such a waste of my precious time but it’s no use trying to stop now. It’s no use hitting delete and starting over, it’s no use making small talk and saying heyyyy cuz hay is for horses. At least that’s what the burning bush told me. Right? Left? Definitely left, she looks like an animal cracker and you know what my duckling would say about that? Godzilla; that’s what. Then she’d crinkle her nose, throw her head back, and laugh like a snowflake. So beautiful yet so cold. So fair, so delicate, so goddamn irritating! You know when his bio says “looking for a good time” that he’s really just looking for some pussy, and he ain’t gonna find it here. No sir, I do not want your unsolicited dick pics, I do not want your emotional availability because I am emotionally unavailable; I am emotionally exhausted, exploited, and empty. I am one thousand, three hundred, and forty-four pixels, a network of infrared light, and an infinite spectrum of colors.
miranda finn, Fall 2018
Artwork by JR Atkinson