The doorbell rings.
I'm at my computer, sitting behind my desk, bent forward, staring at the screen. I turn to regard the door. Should I open it? What will I find on the other side? I wonder if normal people feel this way when the door rings? Instantly question if they hear it or not? Instantly question what could be on the other side? Friend of foe? Or worse, nobody. The bell rings again. I stand up, check out the fact that I'm in my nightshirt and nothing else, and make sure that I know not to raise my arms, or the hem of my shirt will rise over my dick, dropping balls and all into plain sight.
I crack open the door. The lights are out behind me. Music is playing from my laptop. The light from the hallway smarts my eyes, but I see the amazing bulk of Paula, towering over me, filling my view. She reminds me of a Samoan, twice the girth and twice the height of a normal woman. Like a basketball player on steroids. I look her up and down, and smile uncomfortably. Yeah? Paula looks down at me, her eyes at half mast, bloodshot red and terribly unfocused. She wobbles on her feet and grins awkwardly. Hooking a thumb over her shoulder she slurs, "Hey I have a pizza in my room. You want a slice?"
Me in Paula's room? Uhhh. No thank you, Paula. I just ate. I nod, continuing to smile. She staggers somewhat in an attempt to move forward into my door, as if I was opening it to invite her in. I close it further, narrowing the gap between the door frame and door. My eye, nose and half a mouth now visible to her. She gathers herself up like a rising storm, inhales and exhales. "I'm going to have a group of friends over tomorrow, on the Fourth, and make a huge dinner and we're going to take it with us to the West Side...to the park over there, and sit down and watch the fireworks in the evening. You are invited." I nod. Why thank you, Paula. I'll keep that in mind.
"Yeah, it's just going to be a group of us," She continues. Well thank you again. I slowly close the door on her because she definitely looked as if she wasn't going to leave unless I did. I was grateful to lock it and return to my computer. There was no way that I was going to go over there tomorrow evening. Outside during the Fourth? Oh no way. I did it once, but that was because I was walking in a trance, actually in Heaven, and I want to experience the world when I'm like that. On the other hand, by myself, with a group of people I don't know - and if the Bat Faced Bitch is there - people I don't even like? Oh Hell no.
The Bat Faced Bitch. What is the matter with that?! It seems as if there is some cosmic force that is bringing us together constantly. I mean, is existence for real? I try my damnest to avoid this woman every day, and more than often, I keep running into this motherfucker. One day I go to the bathroom to take a leak and in leaving, returning to my room, I see, over my shoulder, Bat Face walking into the bathroom behind me. So I go into my room, and almost instantly my stomach starts to hurt. Exasperated I realize that I need to take a shit just after coming out of the damn bathroom. So I grab the toilet paper and stop, reaching for my doorknob. Bat Face will be coming out at any minute. I should just stay inside until I hear the bathroom door open and close. So that's what I decide to do.
After awhile, my stomach can't take any more. I have got to use the toilet. Bat Face wasn't coming out anytime soon, so I take the chance and step out of my door. No sooner do I reach the other bathroom, which is immediately across from the one that Bat Face is in, she opens the door and steps out. Now, the hallway is so narrow that if you open any of the bathroom doors, you actually block passage through the hall. So I have to stop and wait for this skank to come out, face me, and close the door to go to her room. What are the fucking chances of that?!
Oh, but it doesn't stop there. I'm taking my daily walk, and have come back from 59th street, tired and weak and heading for the last block home when I notice, right in front of me is, guess who? Yep BFB! Shit! And she's walking all slow and deliberate. Damn, I can't walk past her, that's how much I hate being near her. I cross the avenue, then head up the street, and can you believe it, she somehow speeds up and is in front of me on the final block home. I turn into a nearby store and walk around just to kill time, giving her enough to go into the building and take the elevator up. After about five minutes I head into the building and walk past the lobby office, and she is standing there, turning to regard me as I walk past.
I practically run to the elevator, punching the call button and to my relief, the elevator is already there, waiting for me. I hop in and ride up, thankful to be off. But yet, life still continues to play this fucking game. Day in, day out, I can't escape this woman! I got out of the john today, and she is standing around the corner of the hall, waiting for me to get to my door so that she can use the bathroom. She is avoiding me as much as I am avoiding her. Well thank you for that! The feeling is mutual.
I just want a common, peaceful life, under the radar, with the one I love. That's all I care about. That's it. It's not that I lack ambition. I have plenty of that. I guess what I lack is the desire for recognition. I don't need to be someone of importance to the rank and file. Even to someone like Bat Faced Bitch, I don't even need to be noticed. If I had a belt that would make me invisible, like the Predator in the movies, I would definitely use it every time I walked into this building, and probably outside too. Just melt from human existence.
But, maybe that's a throwback from being homeless. I was in fact invisible to humankind, my fellow New Yorkers as I sat, tattered and dirty on park benches and sidewalks. I was stepped over, walked past, completely invisible. Try that for two years, in the open, before millions and still be nothing in the eyes of your fellow man. Nothing for so long, that you become comfortable with being just that. Nothing. I was telling a friend recently that homelessness brings its own raft of problems particular to being homeless. Homelessness will fuck you up, mentally and physically, and I'm certain that the life expectancy of someone homeless, and I mean, completely homeless, is very short. Either in their skin (insane) or out of their skin (dead).
I've been in my skin for so long, so long, that I don't now how to live anymore. I like being alone. I really do. Except that I miss the red head. I have to return to humanity at some level or I will never be able to deal with the real world as I once did. But, I'll take my issues, one by one, and solve them, because you can't tackle them all at once. As they say, Mile by Mile is a trial, Yard by Yard is hard, but Inch by Inch is a cinch.
Inches are a fucking pain in the ass though.HobobobSource URL: http://idontwanttobeanythingotherthanme.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-hope-i-not-only-one.html
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