Cigarette Skull by: Alexandra Williams, Silver Gelatin Print, 2019
Children’s Story
Aliens can teach us a lot about humanity. More than any human could, probably. We are our own blind spot, a cool spot on the face of the sun. A heat wave in the form of a poem. What we don’t know can’t hurt us. That is, as a collective, of course it can. As individuals, absolutely. Radiation is radiation, after all. I’m pretty sure the effects go more than skin deep.
Rotting fruit can tell us a lot about the human’s disgust reaction. Knee jerk, gag reflex. Some are more easily disturbed than others. This goes for socializing, too. Although the same argument could be made that we are all equally sensitive, just about different things. And some are better at hiding it, of course.
The radio told me that empathy is not all that it’s cracked up to be. I think I agree. In any case, I would rather live alone on an island than with any of the last four people who told me they loved me. Deception is the most beneficial skill for someone to have. I don’t say this as anyone who is particularly good. I do my best. We all do.
It’s hard, living, when words don’t mean anything anymore. Maybe they never did. I think of Holden Caulfield a lot. Not as much as when I was 16. If this were a post-apocalyptic world, I would be dead. Can’t even tell if that’s a good or bad thing. Can’t tell good or bad things apart, really. It’s such a fine line, and good for whom? For me? Is a thing good because it’s good for me? I wish I could say fuck everybody else but there are so many mes out there. I will tell my children this.
I may be self-absorbed, but it’s better than absorbing someone else. I tried that once or twice. It’s disgusting. They get into your pores. I had a lot of acne then. It may take months— years—to get them completely out. I have scars on my face and back from trying to excise the pus. They are still trying to wriggle their way back in under my skin. Especially at night. I wake up sweating them back out. I’m not sure it works.
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