9/5/24

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I started to cry at The Grove mall today. It was partially because of you, partially because it was 100° in central Los Angeles and I was dehydrated, and partially because of The Grove mall.

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Something is wrong.

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1. I woke up from a dream last night where I chewed you out for the way you treated me. Every word I haven’t had the chance to say slipped through my subconscious even though in waking hours I have convinced myself that I don’t think about you anymore. But in the thoughts I cannot control, I was alone and fighting with someone who won’t speak to me when it could actually make a change. So I woke up with my angry words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

 

Where are you?

 

2. Every summer it’s been getting hotter. They’ve only been warning society about this for over 50 years, but those who should have cared didn’t listen. And those who have borne the burden of caring have a relentless strength that I desire. I used to care so much, but I think that my system’s overheated because I find myself thinking too hard about the clothes I wear and why you don’t message me back and making sure no one sees my tears outside the Barnes and Noble. I used to think about things that mattered for others. Now, I’d rather think a part of me is broken than admit that I’m being rebuilt this way.

 

I shouldn’t be here.

 

3. The Grove begged me to enter its 8-story parking lot with a bulbous flashing welcome sign. Wandering through the sedative cloud of Christmas-toned vintage music, my brain began to cook over the pavement. Botoxed people without a bead of sweat passed by with frozen smiles and expensive winnings, and the scenery stood as hard plastic unaffected by the heat. Consider me Barbie in Her Dream Land. In the back of my mind, I know just beyond this wall someone is suffering in a greater way; someone who doesn’t get a key to the golden gate is left outside to boil. But everyone puts on their sunglasses and holds their heads high so as to not trip on anything undesirable, be anyone undesirable. I feel something deeply sinister leaking into the corner of my vision, but I’m hopelessly distracted by the dazzling lights and the slight burn on my skin and every thought of you. I like to think I’m better than this, but here I am, a willing participant, only separated by visible pit stains and a lack of coif. What was I here for anyway? Heat rises, you know, and the things I tried to bury away scorch their way to the surface. There you are, along with every moment I wish to forget and every truth I wish to ignore. I’m dizzy, trapped in a heatwave in an outdoor mall, and I know that something is terribly wrong.

 

Perhaps, if you had been paying attention, things wouldn’t be this way. And when I pay attention, I start to cry.