I opened the parcel. It was 20 meters of Christmas lights- fairy lights, as the Brits call it- just like I ordered. I wrapped the wires around the pins I have strategically placed to spell out "Okay". Two hundred fifty pieces of glow-in-the-dark stars also came in the parcel. I stuck them onto my ceiling.
I plugged the fairy light in, closed the lights and marveled at how everything looked.
My father called. He just told me that I can still go to the nunnery if I want. Don't worry, he does this every week. Maybe to convince me to repent and return to their god. Maybe to save me from the fires of hell he believes I will end up in. Maybe for some other selfish reason.
FUCK!
I forgot the second dose of the make-shift Plan B. It's been over 12 hours. I took the wheel of birth control pills from my purse, downed 4 pills and wondered how women in this country keep themselves sane. Birth control is hard to come by, abortion in even in cases of rape is illegal (despite the growing number of population, but okay government, let church influence you once again), condoms are considered sinful but women are expected to oblige when men ask them for sex. How are we okay?
The lights don't seem so beautiful anymore. Once again, I have fallen prey to the capitalists.
So I sit alone in my bedroom that is half-filled with lights and glow-in-the-dark stars, popping the bubbles in the packaging these shit came in. It makes me happy for a while. When it got repetitive, I stood up and looked at all these things I bought which I have virtually no use for except that they were exciting for about 25 minutes. I looked at the bubble wrap- all the air bubbles seem to have been deflated now- and thought how it made me happier than all these other shit I actually bought. I looked at the wheel of pills on my counter and thought about how I'd have to buy another pregnancy test from that one pharmacy two weeks after I have just bought one. I looked at my rejected research proposal and then at The Neighbor's Dog.
