Practice saying this

I shut myself in the bathroom.  You came in and threw your bag on the chair.  You sighed, loudly, to be heard.  I ran the tap for a little bit and stood there.  I turned off the faucet and flushed the toilet and then turned the faucet back on.  I splashed some water on my hands and dried them off and opened the door.  You asked me where I was.  I walked past you and sat down on the couch.

A bird crashed into the window with a thump.  Then two more, thump thump.

You got yourself a glass of water and sat down at the table.  You drank it all, very fast.  You put the glass down on its side, so you would know it was empty.

---

"You don't always get what you want out of life.  You know?"
"Yes."
"The world's too big and it's got too much business with too many other people to bend to your will.  All you can do is take the best of what it gives you and make a life out of it."
"Sure."
"I mean, I wasn't dreaming of a job at a frozen yogurt store, you know?  But that's what life gave me, so I worked hard at it, and now I'm a manager.  Which isn't much, but I can pay my rent and put food on the table."
"Yeah, good."
"It's beautiful, how the world works like that if you're willing to meet it half way.  All you can do is smile and thank God for whatever you've got, because no matter how tough things get, there's always someone out there who has it worse than you."
"That sounds like the kind of thing the manager of a frozen yogurt store would say."

---

You started playing with your watch -- winding it, just spinning the hands around.  The numbers on the digital clock on the cable box spun forwards and backwards, in time with your watch.

You asked me if you could smoke a cigarette.  I said I didn't care.  I tasted a hair on my tongue.  I tried to scrape it off with my finger.  I finally got a hold of it and pulled.  It was stuck so I had to yank it off.  You winced and rubbed your head.  You took out a cigarette and lit it.  I said I thought you meant you were going to smoke outside.  You ignored me and inhaled.  My lungs felt sand-pelted.  I squeezed my eyes shut and you missed the Advil bottle you were using for your ashes.

---

"Sure, references.  Can I use family members as a reference?"
"No.  It can't be someone who is related to you."
"Can I use my therapist as a reference?"
"It should be someone you know in a professional context."
"Can I use you as a reference?"
"I'm interviewing you for the job."
"And it's been going well?"

---

I decided to make some waffles.  So I opened the freezer to take the box of waffles out of the freezer but there were no waffles left in the freezer.  So I took the box and I cut it into little cardboard circles that were approximately waffle-size, but I couldn't find the scissors so instead I ripped them with my hands, which resulted in some waffle shapes that were different sizes and shapes from the others, and some had more or fewer rips in them.  Then I dimpled the little waffle box cut-ups with my fingers, to give them a waffle-similar texture, and I was going to glue a couple of the circles together to make them a little thicker like how a waffle is thick but I couldn't find the glue or the tape or the staples or the rubber cement so I instead adhered them to each other with some caulk I found under the sink that I mixed with water to thin it out a bit.  Then I went to the cabinet to take the toaster out, but the toaster wasn't there, so instead I put the caulked cardboard circles in the oven, but the oven wasn't working, so I turned on the burners on the stove and charred the outsides of the circles so that they'd be sort of browned like they'd been in a toaster.  Then I put them on a plate and poured myself a glass of yellow drink and looked for the syrup, but there was none, so I mixed some brown sugar with some caulk and poured that on my cardboard circles and sat down at the table to eat them, and I couldn't find a fork or knife, but by this point I did find the scissors, so I cut the cardboard into bites with the scissors and then ate them with my hands.

What the fuck are you doing, you said.

---

"Practice saying this: 'I'm sorry for my behavior.  I have psychological problems.'"
"'I'm sorry' -- wait, what is it?"
"'I'm sorry for my behavior.  I have --'"
"Just give me one part at a time.  'I'm sorry for my behavior.  I have problems --'"
"'I have psychological problems.'"
"'I'm sorry for my behavior.  I have psychological problems.'  How was that?"
"Good.  Now say it without the stupid clown grin on your face."

---

I remember, sometimes, I'd look at you and you looked miserable, hopeless, like you wanted to die where you stood.  And I'd ask, what's wrong, and you'd turn to me with all of a sudden the biggest, sweetest smile I could imagine, as real as the ground under my feet, and you'd say "nothing," like you'd never seen a cloud in your life.

---

You brought home a pumpkin from the farmer's market.  You said you wanted to carve a face into it, but I also wanted to carve a face into it.  We carved the face together, each holding the knife's handle, fingers interlocked, and when we were done it looked like garbage.

I said, when you met me, I was a kitten mewling at your bowl of milk.  You made a disgusted face.  I said I was a fraction of a person.  Not one half -- that's too cute, that gives me too much credit.  One fourth of a person, or two sevenths.  You started flipping around on your phone.  I hadn't meant any of it anyway.  The pumpkin sat there for six months before you threw it away, and even then, it was only because you found a bunch of worms living in it.

---

"What the hell have you been doing?"
"What?"
"You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, with a gift."
"What gift?"
"I told you what to buy, I told you where to buy it."
"I couldn't find the store.  It was closed.  I think it closed down."
"Is this why you came?  So you could lie to my face, annoyingly, and not bring a gift?"
"May my presence be a bouquet of fucking flowers to you."
(The floor buckles and we drop.)