Lost in the City

I can't sit on the subway without worrying that somebody is reading my thoughts. I'll say to myself, "Stop reading my thoughts", so if somebody is, they'll realize that they're caught and they will stop. But, of course, if they are reading my thoughts they will know that I know that I don't really know whether or not they stopped.

I cannot think dirty thoughts on the subway.

I cannot think any thoughts on the subway.

I CANNOT RIDE THE SUBWAY ANYMORE.

I can't walk anywhere, either. I'm afraid that people are watching me from their cars, and their windows, laughing at how I walk, and how my hair looks, and how I wear too much make-up.

He asks, "Why don't you just take the back roads?"
I can't take the back roads. When I walk out of my room, the doormen and the receptionist will wonder where I'm going, and they'll talk to each other about what a snob I am for never talking to them. I figure, If they never see me, they'll forget that I'm a snob.

I CANNOT LEAVE MY ROOM ANYMORE.

I sit in my bedroom on my computer, and check my e-mail, and check the message boards, and check my e-mail again. To mix things up a bit, I play solitaire. Then I check my e-mail. Nobody ever e-mails me but I'll check it one last time after checking the message boards again. Then maybe a book, maybe some television, then I check my e-mail again. Sometimes I like to look at my old friend's webpage, but I can't do it too many times just in case they've hacked into my computer and can see how often I feel the urge to look at their pictures.

Once my wrists start to hurt from all the clicking, and tapping, and typing the same password out thirty times an hour, I fall asleep on my enormous king size mattress. Though the city may never sleep, I manage to get in at least fourteen hours a day.

I have lived in New York for two years now, and I don't know a single person. Not that I haven't met anybody, there's just no one that I know. I live in overpriced hotel rooms because I can't buy furniture. Not that I can't afford it, I just can't buy it; I hate sales people, I hate delivery people, I hate conversation, I hate bullshit and bargaining. I hate tipping.

I live in overpriced hotel rooms because they give me fresh towels, and wash my clothes for me. I can't go to the laundromat. Not that it's far, it's only a block down the street. But, the last time I went there I hated how they all tried to make conversation with me. Sunshine detergent this, sunny weather that. I couldn't take them seriously because I could see the shit stains on the underwear that they were throwing into the machine. No more laundromat for me.

I keep the do not disturb sign on my door at all times, except for Sundays when I call the front desk and ask them to send a maid up to trade the towels, and take my laundry. It takes me at least half an hour to work up the courage to pick up the phone. Sometimes I have to go an extra week without clean towels, because well, maybe it's not really that important that I call today, or I can always call tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I clean my own room, and make my own bed. I only bother asking for fresh sheets when mine start to smell weird or make my skin itch.

I put on my make-up every morning, even though nobody sees me, and I cry it off every night, even though there's nobody around to tell me that I look like shit when I let my mascara run.