When I bite onto the fortune cookie, I feel the fortunes deep within my soul: Considerate of others in your life, one way or the other. I’ve lost my home, my family and even the faith that I had in God. Fortune Cookies seems to have poetic justice in just the right places for me. If only I gave importance to everyone else in my life before the death of Effie. I can feel the cheese fried wontons starting to come right up on me.
While using the bathroom, I step over empty rice cartons and pizza boxes. Why am I so weak? I ask myself as tears flow into my eyes while my stomach vomits into the toilet bowl. Instead, I blame this on my parents somehow. Please give me a minute, some solitude will do just fine. I wipe my mouth with my hands and look into the mirror. I’m feeling guilty and that is all that matters. With the last six months not being good to me, I’ve at least gotten some credit with turning the delivery boys into friends.
It is almost like wandering into and retreating from every human connection: like moving away from my job as a high school French teacher, or even my sister. My car even managed to do the job of killing her inadvertently. That’s where it all started Effie.
It’s impossible to escape your own perspective.
Regardless of whether you undergo shift in viewpoint, the world continues to feel the way it does through your own eyes. I understand it is lacking an essence of individuality, but still immeasurable effort only to notice the absence of God after having gone through a personal tragedy.
I understand this too wasn’t specific to me. However, it still managed to open my eyes to the reality so many people choose to ignore because it is less painful. Therefore, I began to abandon every aspect of it, physically in addition to mentally. God was such a pivotal figure in our meaningful moments that it’s hard to fathom what life is like consulting to him.
I have been attempting to live in a state of as little decision making as possible. According to my understanding, my reasoning skills are fundamentally flawed, which explains why Effie is left shambled at the end of the de sac. Ordinarily, however, there is no such thing as not making decisions. And so here I am, stepping over pizza boxes, gazing into the mirror, grappling with my unreliable mind.
I slump back into the couch. I extract the fortune from my takeaway meal. Take the time to be considerate of other people. “Take the time.” Time? Not just any time. That is what is baffling. Is that a specific amount of time? Or just at a specific time? How much time does it take to be considerate of others?
Of the eight words on the curling slip in my fingers, the worst one is others. I mean, there must be others before one can take into consideration of whatever it is.
To be honest, I don’t know what makes me want to take this advice. (Let’s not be superstitious.) But I force myself towards the door. It’s akin pulling off a Band-Aid. Except when you pull off a Band-Aid you don’t suddenly notice it’s winter and you probably need a jacket and definitely shoes. It’s been months since I have last stepped outside.
I bury my head in the fabric of the blanket and mentally prepare myself for a sleepless night, shivering in fear-self pity-rage. It is times like this that make me wish my mother was an Atheist so that instead of praying, it would make more sense to hear her while she gently kissed me goodnight. My mother understands that there are no gods to listen to our prayers. It makes so much more sense. The imaginative realities I have tried to convince myself of verge on irrational.
It does feel sometimes like the numbness brought about by the accident is starting to wear off. I feel as if decision making in my life has ceased to exist and that has come back to bite me. Regardless of how much it pains me to say this, it is the reason why I am here. The only difference now is that you realize such coping mechanisms will no longer suffice if this is how you plan on living. Let us get one thing straight, we have not a single idea how to attempt feeling human.
Riding the ever hopeful wave of positivity, I can beg to differ and say that I have decided it is time to start fresh. But till then, I shall sit here and challenge to goggle the left over takeout food while tossing the random fortune cookie out of the window.
On the one hand, I was raised on the gospels; on the other hand, that chapter is closed for me now. I truly cannot follow the gospels as much as I wish to, however, there needs to be something that I can follow, something that can serve as a metric which aids me in making decisions. But most importantly, I need a gospel. Not something to believe in. That is just too steep. Steep for whom, I don’t know.
That’s how my independent decision emerges; however, I will refrain myself from making too many compromises because this whole concept of religion is enticingly blasphemous. Heavily, for the sole purpose of their poor quality.
I’ve been gradually chipping away at my credit card debt and have taken to working as a freelance translator from home. This allows me to slowly re-enter the world in a more manageable way. I now work with Greek, French, and English which requires much more effort and creativity, but opens so many doors for me. Despite the fact that I have separated so much from my parents, I do have a lot of warmer human relationships now.
Like the barista who nods me before brewing my morning latte and the clients who always sign off their emails with the word, ‘best’.
I go to extraordinary lengths to make sure their well wishes for me are returned. I ensure to always be there for them as well as make sure they are my world. The statement above may come off as subpar, yet, my first step into life was far from uneventful. I was born via C-section, because I was brutally pulled into a family of ultra orthodox Christians. My return is a more smooth affair.
In regard to my other interactions, no one is in the dark about the Chinese cuisine that I consume every Sunday, and how it guides the motions that I carry out. I don’t see it as the chicken itself that’s important. It’s not even the rest of it. It’s the fact that it’s redundant crap and Sunday is not the Sabbath General. Tso’s chicken is certainly not what I deem the Eucharist, but rather, my redundant crap. But regardless of what it is, it’s aiding me to move forward from Juni’s death.
So alternatively, I have indeed been attempting to take it one step at a time. While for the most part my lifestyle does not involve running on a treadmill, there are times when I can indeed catch a break. Such as when I resume my attempt at normality. Now once I manage to catch a break, the next step involves remembering what I found to be enjoyable. Now that I am older, I read poetry instead of writing it.
I struggle with my work motivation, and sometimes I even find myself taking days off. To make my life easier, I’ve stuck my most recent fortune to my laptop, which allows me to see it every time I sit down to work.. Doing it has proven to make it extremely easier for me to avoid procrastination.
You could say that I plod along as I remind myself constantly to not rush through life. Anything extreme is categorically bad, and I’m content with permanently removing procrastination from my life. Apropos, I, Magdalena “Maggie” Papadakis, need to stop to smell the roses, as everyone says. That is what I’ve been trying to work towards, more or less.
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