Middle of the night

I couldn't sleep last night and I got to thinking, which is not a course of action I would ever suggest that you take should you find yourself awake at 4am. You have cable. Watch it. Don't be stupid.

But I didn't want to disturb the other people in the apartment, so I just laid there impotently and stared at the ceiling. It suddenly occurs to me that this is the ceiling in my bedroom. This is my bedroom. I live here. This is my furniture. That is my cat. I own this nightgown.

This is my life.

Now, gentle reader, have you ever thought of it that way? Obviously, you are wearing your clothes right now. They don't belong to anyone else. But have you ever considered that these are your clothes. Like, in life. You dress like that. Really. You don't dress like how you plan on dressing when you become a big star or make tons of money or lose five pounds or even just find more time in your schedule to drop off dry cleaning. And you don't live in a sleek downtown loft or a cute little cottage with a breakfast nook that really "expresses your personality". Look around, you are a person that lives within those four walls that you're looking at.

That shirt you are wearing is fucking defining at this very moment.


Anyway, that's what I was thinking about. I kinda crazied myself into a stupor for a while and then I got mercifully sleepy. But those thoughts that I was thinking are not crazier than what happened next.


Just as I'm starting to drift off, my face starts to tingle. I feel a rush of blood to my left cheek. Must be from stress. I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, trying to ignore the sensation. But I can't sleep. I get up out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom, careful not to wake anyone else. Looking into the toothpaste-stained mirror I can see a huge zit forming on the left side of my face. Shit, that thing is huge. I poke at it with my finger and sharp needles of pain shoot through my face. I can feel a dull ache behind my eyeball. I stare at the thing for a minute. I splash some cold water on my face and take another look. It's bigger than when I first saw it thirty seconds ago. Now my cheek is so puffy that my eye is starting to swell shut. Wow, I think, this thing has got to go. I place my index fingers on either side of the zit and press down. Nothing. I dig a little deeper and I feel something deep inside my skin start to buckle.

Pop! Pink goo starts to ooze out of the spot. With every beat of my pulse, it spurts out of my face. It sprays onto the mirror and the bathroom counter. I press harder. More and more goo streams forth, it cascades off the sink and lands on the floor. It just keeps coming. My chest becomes tight and my vision gets hazy. The pool of goo is spreading out all over the floor. Alarmed, I take my hands away from my face but it doesn't stop. The puss keeps spurting violently out of a cavernous hole in my cheek. Oh god! There is a CAVERNOUS HOLE IN MY CHEEK. Why did I have to squeeze that thing? Everyone knows you're not supposed to pop a zit. Kat, you are a stupid whore!

I grab some toilet paper and press it to my face, hard. It's no use. Puss continues to issue from my head at an alarming speed. It covers the floor and and I can feel it creeping up my over my feet...covering my ankles...then my shins...then my knees. I can't see and I can barely breathe. Oh shit. I'm going to be the first person in the history of the world to die from a zit. I always suspected I was somehow special...now I know why. I extricate my legs from the blob and climb into the bathtub. Weak and helpless, I slump against the cold fiberglass of it's rim as the pink stuff gushes onto the tile. I wait to be drowned in my own mucus.

As quickly and violently as it began, the gushing stops. My vision clears and I look at the mess. It's not a pool as I originally thought. It's a long congealed rope of pink and white jelly that is coiled in piles that are as tall as the sink. It seems to glow from the center and it pulses and throbs as though it possesed a heartbeat of it's own. I reach over it and swing the door open. The only way out is to jump over it, which I do, hoping the thud of my landing won't wake anyone. I tiptoe into the kitchen and grab four or five garbage bags from one of the cabinets. Using a broom I sweep the mess into the bags and haul them out to the dumpster. I never realized that puss could be so heavy. By the time I'm done dragging all five bags of it outside, I'm exhausted. Miraculously, it's kind of solid and doesn't leave much residue on the bathroom tiles. I grab some paper towels and mop up the stuff that's left on the mirror and the walls. The I look at my face.

It's perfect. I can't find any trace of the eruption. I look exactly the same as before.

I'm looking at my face. This is my face.

I ask you...

Yesterday I bought shampoo that smelled like beer. Yes, really. Today my boyfriend has been really really nice to me.



Coincidence?

I think not.