This week I've catalogued my sparse cupboards and counted the days. The days between now and enough to eat contain hunger, that's certain.
My living space is an ascetic exercise, bare and empty.
Bertrand Russell's "History of Western Philosophy" occupies my time while I avoid the scho
(more)ol work I really must do.
Everywhere I go I walk or take the bus.
This is the life I chose, and that which I am choosing.
But then she came along. Random and interesting. Saying those words I turn to blood on the tongue. Two simple syllables "hello".
We talked for an hour or so, enjoyed each others company. The conversation tangled across the minutes until the sound of a jet split the day. It felt appropriate to part company so I bid her adieu. "I'll see you in class" I said.
She suggested that we might see each other outside of class and I agreed.
It isn't her. She seems quite fine. It's my life, my choices.
My spartan existence which in our society is unacceptable.
We must possess commodities in order to be eligible for each other. We are not our words, our thoughts, our feelings. We are the cars we drive, the app's on our phones, the lacquer on our cabinets.
This is especially true for men. A woman can live without possessions and those around her will admire her for the strength of her convictions. A man on the other hand is automatically cast as a failure if he does not own status symbols.
So as I've considered how to approach her interest I've decided to just be honest, and if she buys into what so many of her peers do, then it's just a one time thing and I will go on living a life of accustomed solitude.
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