My thoughts linger, allowing the memory of you,
The memory of us, to slip through
The cracks of my conscious
These thoughts last only long enough to refocus
My attention and snap shut your memory
To snap shut the box that contains all of you,
In the deep dark corners of my mind Continue reading “Blinded”
By Samantha Schlemm
I’m covered in beer and I’m shaking. It’s the Thursday before Christmas Eve and I don’t want to be here anymore. My black converses are warped from all the hours I’ve put them to work, and my feet ache.
“I – I just can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”
He studies me and I can tell he knows that I’m serious. The calm and collected girl he has come to know is gone and she is officially having a nervous breakdown. In front of me is a glass half full of liquor for sangria, the pitchers I had made earlier are long gone and I’m stuck making them by the glass now, there is no time to stop and reset.
“Come on just a little longer,” he says cheerfully, but he’s not dealing with this, he’s simply making sure that I don’t screw up, and he knows I won’t. He’s come to depend on the fact that I won’t mess up, so he mostly ignores me. But right now, I’ve never felt like this before. The tickets keep printing with more and more drink orders, and the crowd around me is tripling in size. How in the hell did I get here? It’s the year of unknowing and I can’t figure out how I got stuck here bartending. There is no stopping. There is no end in sight. Continue reading “The Year Of Unknowing”