Ice To Meet You

Skyline is the limit

Is it unfair for an intelligent person to use his/her skills to get a job? Is it wrong for a man to use his charm and wit to make a woman fall for him? Then why is it considered sinful for a woman to use her body to get something in life?

I want to write about how it is absofuckinglutely okay to use your body to get what you want in life but deep down I know it is not. For the past 45 minutes, I have been blankly staring at my screen and that should tell me something. It would make for amazing content if I write about passing a class by sucking the TA's dick but really, do I want that kind of clout?

"Copying Hannah just because you have no life is not how you will keep your sorry excuse of a job Mia!" Inner voice reprimands me, and I grudgingly agree, she is right as usual. Do I want to write about other people and their lives because I am scared of living my own?

"Your life isn't interesting enough to be written about," the inner bitch responds to her, and have I mentioned that I loathe her to the point of stabbing her to death? She is the equivalent of fingernails on the chalkboard. 

What does she even want me to do? Just when I thought my internal dialogue was complicated enough, I have two voices to deal with now. Are my self-preservation tactics going overboard again?

Both of the voices inside my head have a peculiar quality to their voice. The bitch sounds snotty and provoking, reminding me of the mean girls in high school that used to bully me. Compared to her, the inner voice sounds motherly, giving me tough love.

"Maybe try being interesting and taking some risks," the inner bitch continues talking to herself and I tune her out. 

I close my laptop and get back to packing.

"If you think this is packing, you are delusional," the bitch comments, encouraging me to carry on. I will not let her dictate my life again.

In the end, I did end up overstuffing the bag and then sitting on the bag to close it. When I failed to move the zipper even an inch, I called in Hannah for help who kept her legs on it in an attempt to compact the overflowing mess of clothes. It took us 15 minutes and a workout to shut one of my four bags. Hannah is calling one of her boy toys to help us move our stuff to the bus stop.

"We go anywhere further from Manhattan and we might as well live in Connecticut," Hannah says as we enter New York. We are on the Greyhound bus and in 30 minutes are about to reach our bus stop between fifth and Madison. What is wrong with Connecticut?

"Is Brooklyn supposed to be a good place to live?" I ask, cause let's face it, this woman has answers to everything. The only thing I know is that New York has 5 boroughs and since we can't afford Manhattan, Hannah and I are living in Brooklyn.

"Brooklyn is what Manhattan was 30 years ago, it's chic and artsy. And where we're living is a steal, trust me its dick central," and here I was worried about fluffy beds. We clearly have different priorities in life.

"As if you need more dick Han," I smirk, being a bad judgmental friend. At least I am self-aware

"I need to cleanse my palate," she says and takes out cheese rolls she picked out from 7-Eleven. I will never understand her love for them or be able to explain my disgust towards them. They taste like dirt. I take a sip from my black extra-large hazelnut coffee. There is something so reassuring about hazelnut, maybe it is my brain connecting it to Nutella and my childhood. I lived on Nutella as a kid, now I avoid anything chocolate like the plague.

"So, who are you going to be now that we're in New York?" Han asks crumbs of pastry coating the cheese falling out of her mouth. Before we came to college, we decided the kind of people we wanted to be and spent the 4 years trying to keep our word.