sticky notes
I’ve started taking my therapist more seriously.
I tried keeping a journal, but it just made things worse for me. I get stuck in my own head sometimes. My word choices depress me. I focus too much on the negatives. Not for me.
I tried meditating. She said it would help me maintain a better mindset. It’d make me more mindful. Couldn’t get into it. Five minutes seemed endless. I checked the timer once a minute. Couldn’t help it. I forced myself to do it without a timer once. Just tried to stay still for as long as I could. My eyes practically pried themselves open. Two minutes and fourteen seconds.
Today, she told me to try a new approach. Sticky notes.
Take down the old posters from your wall. The ones that came inside of album vinyl packages and Criterion DVDs. At the end of your day, write something nice that happened to you. Stick it in the top left corner. The next day, do the same on another sticky note. Stick it to the right. Continue on from there.
That’s the plan. I set a reminder on my phone for 9 PM. Starting today.
I get home. Jesse’s doing the dishes. He has to lean his head and neck forward because our basement apartment’s ceilings are barely six feet tall. His hair hits grazes the ceiling anyway.
His jeans are unbuttoned and his t-shirt tucked in. His hair is messy, with strands sticking out like he rested his head wrong on the pillow while sleeping. He’s using our TV as a speaker playing Roy Orbison.
I told him I’d do the dishes yesterday, but I forgot. He doesn’t bring it up, though.
“Yo,” I say.
“Yo.”
Our cat comes up to me and pushes his face against my legs. His fur becomes red again after he’s done cleaning off his street dirt on my jeans. He meows at me. I stretch my arms and say, “Okay.”
I head over to the fridge and take out a can of wet food. He’s already got dry food in a plate but he only eats it after he’s had a bit of the other stuff. I set his plate down and watch him bob his head restlessly eating.
“Good boy, Robin.”
“Movie tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’ve got something downloaded.”
“What is it?”
“Something wild.”
“What is it?”
“No, I mean, it’s called Something Wild.”
“Oh. I don’t know it.”
He shrugs and dries his hands on the handtowel hanging from the oven handle. He walks through me and into his room. Shuts the door.
I sit down on the couch and pull out my phone. I open Instagram and scroll for a bit before yelling from the couch, “How long until you wanna watch it?”
He doesn’t hear me.
Eventually, Jesse leaves his room and I ask again. He’s actually watching a different movie tonight. He’s on a call with an old friend. He’d texted me about it. I check my phone. He’s right.
I grab a pink sticky note.
15/08
Hanged out with Jesse.
I crumple it up and throw it in the trash. I’ll start tomorrow.
The next morning, I feed my cat, take a shower, put some clothes on, boil some water, eat a bagel, make some coffee, let my cat out, drink a bit of coffee, wait for my coffee to cool down a little, let my cat in, “Good boy, Robin,” finish my coffee, and brush my teeth.
I hear Jesse buckling his belt through the door. He comes out with his unironed work shirt tucked into his jeans and his work hat in his hands. He sets the hat down on the table and nearly trips on Robin. He takes my coffee cup and pours himself some.
I hear the upstairs neighbors open the door for their bulldog. I hear him breathing as our neighbor guides him, “No, Frankie, this way. This way!”
I hear Frankie run.
I open our apartment door and put my shoes on. I’m tying my laces when Jesse opens the door.
“Where you headed?”
“Dunno. Out,” I shrug.
I go around the neighborhood and get on the streetcar without noticing. I get off one stop away from the station and start walking back. I lightly bump into a guy who then pushes me out of the way with his left hand. “Don’t touch me, faggot,” he says. “Fucking faggots always tryna get it out of me.”
I clench my fist, sigh, keep walking.
After endless blocks filled with local restaurants and convenience stores less frequented than the Popeye’s and 7/11s they sit next to, I sit down on a park bench. I’d like to get a bit more comfortable and prop my legs up on the rest of it, but there’s an armrest there to prevent any houseless people from lying down here.
I spot someone outside the 7/11 across the street. She stands there waiting for people to come in and out of the place.
“Hey, it’s my birthday. Do you have any change? Hey, it’s my birthday. Do you have any change? Hey, sorry, do you have any change? A blue would be nice. It’s my birthday, y’know.”
I walk over and give her the change in my pocket.
“Thank you so much! A blue would be nice.”
I show her the inside of my wallet. It’s empty.
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Happy birthday.”
I get back home. I head to the fridge and grab a bottle of Vodka. I take a swig. Then another. Then another.
17/08
Had a nice walk.
I crumple it up. I’ll start tomorrow.
I get a match on a dating app. We text. They seem to be really into me. A few days later we set a date for Saturday. “Sounds good,” I text.
“Dope,” they say.
As the days pass, they text me “Good morning!” daily. They tell me about their day. They show interest, my interest fades.
Saturday comes. We head for some dessert. We walk around Kensington Market looking for a nice place. There’s a store that sells churros. I suggest we go there. They agree.
We walk out of Kensington with churros in our hands. The nutella inside is warm and liquid.
“I actually don’t like nutella,” they say.
“Why didn’t you get something else?”
“I wanted to get what you got.”
We walk through the end of Chinatown and into Queen’s park. We sit down on a bench, separated by an armrest.
“Are you much of a reader?” they ask.
“Yeah. I love reading. I wish I read more.”
“Same! I wish I had more time.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Feels like I spend more time reading philosophy rather than whatever I want to read in my free time, y’know?”
“Yeah, that’s definitely the same for me. What do you usually read?”
“Squirrel!”
They point at a black blur running from one tree to another.
“Hey, I had a nice time tonight.”
“Oh, my god, same!”
“Yeah... but I think we should probably just be friends.”
“Oh, yeah... probably.”
“I’ll walk you to the station,” I offer.
“No, that’s alright. You don’t have to.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“It’s okay. Really.”
I open the door to the apartment. Jesse’s shoes aren’t on our rack. I guess he’s not home. I grab the bottle of Vodka out of the fridge. Robin walks up to me and wipes his street dirt off on my jeans. I take a swig and put the bottle down by the TV. I pick Robin up and sit down on the couch. I set him on my lap and have to hold him there so he doesn’t spring up and jump away. I pet him until he relaxes and gets comfortable. He tilts his head to show me where he wants me to scratch.
He purrs. I laugh.
23/08
Went on a date
I crumple it up.
23/08
Got some churros
I crumple it up.
23/08
Had a nice time with Robin
I crumple it up. I’ll start tomorrow.
Cover Photo by Isaac Taylor.