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Things Learned Alone Laurinda Lind To put my attention there so I could make it real and not robot it as if I were sitting inside my head in an armchair with a remote control. To say uh-huh while insulted by sociopaths who want me to hate them so they can unlock all their juices and melt me with them but I won’t, they’ll have to stew in them themselves. To fold the end of the breadbag over and throw that fucking plastic thing away that holds it together so there’s one less piece of crap pointless thing in my house too full of things because clutter makes me comfortable. To wrap all the airholes in the bathtub with duct tape and starve out the space in the trap so the drain can’t resist the plunger and no matter how much that guck likes it down there it has to come up to me and show me how it did what it did. To make my mind stop saying those loud things, the anxiety loop you have cancer you waited so long to go to the dentist they’ll pull out all your teeth since it’s not real, it’s what they want you to think and who they want you to think you are. And they don’t get to tell you that.


2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  
2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  

Professional literary journal produced at Asnuntuck Community College