CONTRIBUTORS / CULTURE / FEATURED POST / PROSE / WORD SLINGING

Detailing Some of My Least Favorite Days by Allison Maloney

Peak your head in to voyeur demons with a sense of humor.

In the months before I graduated from university, I spent an inordinate amount of time freaking out about the cloudy future, how to find a job, the hazards of fucking my friends and whether or not I could take one day’s rest from consuming alcohol.

My behavior was erratic–manic, even–and I choked on my own words with frequency and destroyed potentially fantastic situations with careless ease. Nerves were king but my friends were good ones so the madness prowled onward, masking it’s severity with the familiar nature of the situations and substances.

I have run away from this past, a safe-haven home that helped me breathe by holding me down. Through revisiting writing from a even a few measly months ago, I realize am free from the constraints and commitments of a reputation that controlled my life.

Exposing depression, anxiety, substance abuse, eating issues, and dishonesty through writing seems to scream, “I’m SUCH a fucked up angsty braggart,” but I find slivers of courage in words that shine raw light on blackness in it’s darkest shade. I have recognized that in order to dispel the rage and restock my shelves with sweetness, I have to own up to my actions and map out misguided processes. Re-reading these words made me recognize that I have come a long way: I’m now pleased as piss to be alive and feeling that awareness vibrate throughout my life and the lives of those who couldn’t stop my tornado, but still held my hand, is a powerful tool.

My intentions in sharing this stupid shit are to be more courageous by talking about my human flaws. This is mostly for me, but maybe it will help you.

These were the things I was writing down, taken word-for-word from my notebook covered in Difficult Dogs stickers. Entries detailing ordinary days, sandwiched between similar stories with the same slash-and-burn endings. You can almost lick the OCD off the screen, right?

————————————————————————

monday april thirtieth 2012

“sometimes i love this place and sometimes i look around and think to myself, ‘who the fuck are all these people?'”
– jennifer leetch via text message, 2:45 pm

this day started when i woke up already too late for class.

he comes over and i yell at him because i was already fucked up and hadn’t eaten breakfast. maniac follow-up text with no response. expected. bong. k must already be in class. maybe home soon.

change clothes and call cr for advice. end up sobbing for an hour and a half, writing down her advice in a notebook and hoping i don’t seem weak. i do. accepted.

bong. find out my one pm class is a guest lecture. absolutely not going. another bong.

k comes home so i tell her about the fight. she seems to understand. speeding.

go to cvs and drop film. walk to bank, where the teller is overly friendly because we have a mutual friend who works with her at bob evans. back at cvs. find ge 25cents short of paying for cigarettes in cash.

two cigarettes

run into tn. talk about post-graduate life and how she leaves the house just to stimulate herself. express worry, fear. she calms with her presence and words. absolutely speeding at this point.

there is a man walking up and down the street with his shirt off and he has tattoos of a gun on his back. his ass crack is hanging out and he stares at my ass while i tie my shoes. speeding hard enough to want to strike up conversation. bad idea.

two cigarettes

see ag outside coffee shop, strike up conversation. the boy sitting across from her is very attractive. he tells me his name. forget within seconds. cr and mm are inside eating ice cream, wave.

two cigarettes

ag and eh come over. bong.

k is going to a performance at 6:30. i stay back to give him space. call ev for love and scan photos instead. cr meets me at the library and we talk back and forth before meeting. meeting.

cigarette

bar booth with sd and cr. ad shows up. nd and kr show up. drink.

three cigarettes

close my fifteen dollar tab. listen to joni mitchell in nd’s car driving to buy weed. walking up to the room, notice sm isn’t home and wonder what he is doing. wonder if i seem drunk in front of eb, who seems tired and has paperwork spread across his bed.

roll a joint, but the paper rips.

classes skipped – 3/3

alcoholic beverages consumed – 5

mg consumed – 20

bras worn – 0

family phone calls avoided – 3

emails avoided – 5

number of wardrobe changes – 4

anxiety-ridden “i love you” texts sent – 3

sexually charged daydreams – 1

conversations about leaving – 4

————————————————————————

tuesday may first 2012

woke up 7:30, paralyzed with anxiety and fear until 8. thought about him. showered. thought about him in the shower. forced myself to eat a banana. smoke a bong. two.

advising meeting. he has his tv on mute so i can’t make out what he’s watching. i tell him i’ve been skipping all of my classes, he laughs. offers zero help with financial aid and tells me my old grumpy professor used to be cool.

cigarette

pass a guy wearing a Reel Big Fish tshirt walking to econ and it pisses me off more than anything else so far today. sit next to a boy no older than 13 in class, move. his shirt says “one time at band camp” in pink script across his huge back. he leaves at 12:46. 12:51, i am officially watching the clock. 12:54.

cigarette

meeting in an ice-cold closet. stare at the chest of the girl next to me because her boobs are so massive in proportion to her body. impressed. apply for a non-profit social media job. spell my own name wrong.

cigarette

home. fry chicken in pork fat. make a taco. read vice. think about her and who she’ll sleep with when i leave. smoke a bong.

cigarette

learn about harriet tubman (again) from a soulful black man. ibh texts me from outside of the classroom and says he’s been alternating between napping on a cushioned bench in the hallway and sitting in his seat. write in all caps. teacher says the beatles were more blues-driven than the rolling stones. disagree. ibh tells him to “rock on” and i let out an embarrassingly loud laugh. after class, ibh tells me that he doesnt know about graduation tickets or cap and gowns. realize i don’t either.

two cigarettes

at work, i wait on a double date and all four are wearing jersey-style fest shirts. their food takes 45 minutes. take off work for music festival and graduation week. boss finally realizes that i’m leaving school.

cigarette

bar for a game of pool. two drinks. conversation with sd about fist fights and fucking. he finally texts me and tells me i should apologize. not amused. drive nd’s car home blaring joni mitchell and find the back door of work open with the lights on.

two cigarettes this time because he is gone

classes skipped – 0/3

alcoholic beverages consumed – 2

family phone calls avoided – 2

mg consumed – 0

bras worn – 1

number of wardrobe changes – 3

anxiety-ridden ‘i love you’ texts – 3

sexually charged daydreams – 2

conversations about leaving – 5

————————————————————————

wednesday may second 2012

“i think the tobacco and sun might be gross, but the adderall calls.”
– back porch at 5:35 pm

i woke up too late again so i skipped econ and changed my outfit twice. bong.

it’s so hot everywhere and k and i destroyed the kitchen a week ago. review day in ethics for our monday test on a book i don’t have. late, so i stand in the back hallway of the class and listen to R talk about obfuscation, which i understand. leave.

cigarettes are useless today because i am melting.

library is equally as hot. edit two papers due the night before and send them in. girl behind me invites someone to a party at the j bar. upload photos and await response. denied from the social media position i was after. solid.

class at morton at three, which i know but still leave late. the bumblebees on the hill are spaztic and confused like the rest of us. i forgot class was cancelled. back up the hill. ag is at jackie o’s so time for a beer. wallet still lost so i have to get blonde boy from the day before to buy me one. still don’t know his name.

talk about graduating, post-grad plans, invitations, nerves. i bring up my writing about this anxiety but no one gets it. ra is laughing at me and looking at me- she reminds me of jf and i feel nostalgic. decide to buy more beer and go to the west side. walk to the way i walk to cs’s house.

cs.

coronas with lemon and someone talks about citrus and i guess i never understood it’s “power.” go on the back porch and smoke spliffs. girl who lives here is so beautiful and reminds me that stretch marks dont matter because her tits are perfect. ss lives here too and arrives in all black, like a lebonese jackie onassis.

she has two beers with us and is nervous when i sit on the railing so i get off. fine by me.

classes skipped – 2/3*

alcoholic beverages consumed – 5

family phone calls avoided – 4

mg consumed – 10

bras worn – 0

number of wardrobe changes – 3

anxiety-ridden ‘i love you’ texts – 4

sexually charged daydreams – 4

conversations about leaving – 5

————————————————————————

thursday may third 2012

IF THAT IS THE WORST THING I HAVE EVER DONE, THEN I AM NOT SO BAD

————————————————————————

I’m Alli Maloney and I live in Olympia, WA. Read more of my super sad shit all over this website. Max told me that sadness is just as valid as happiness, and he is really attractive and smart so I’m just not going to look into it any further and believe him fully.

Photo taken by John David Heeg 

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3 thoughts on “Detailing Some of My Least Favorite Days by Allison Maloney

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