Coffee.

Coffee.

Hello I am Tiffany.

A generic white girl.

I’m not really that generic.

The world doesn’t know that though.

No one knows me…

So maybe I am generic.

Generic? Or just boring.

Nah. I’m just bored.

 

Example one:

I was walking home, my dog having peed a couple times in the same places she manages to every day. She looked up at me just before we reached the driveway to the barely inhabited abode my parents had left for me. They died a few years back. Natural causes. Suburbia just gave them too much to be content with. Now here I was, taking two more steps and looking up to see what my dog was barking at. I just watched them. Two robbers carried the plasma I had from my house, taking it as their own. I don’t really like TV, so I just watched them. I think I even smiled when they caught sight of me. Just a simple smile. My television was gone just as simply.

 

Example two:

I was walking to work. The parking garage was across the street. I huddled along with most of the others from my office building. A coworker worked his way towards me. “Hey Tiff” His voice was a happy tune. It was ignored. He slid his arm over my shoulder. “Hey Tiff.” “Tom, if you’re going to touch me unnecessarily, then do it in the office so the HR woman can see you.” The indifference, or the words that dripped in the stuff seemed to scare him off. Indifferent, as a few suits and ties around me laughed loudly.

 

Still unconvinced?

 

Example three:

I was walking in the park. A seemingly homeless lady approached me. She held up her hand. I shook it. “I’m Tiffany.” The woman looked startled and hobbled away, suddenly more sound in her step.

 

I haven’t felt feeling in a while. I don’t know why. I have everything deemed substantial substantially, and yet, all the substance in my life is void. Generations previous have strived for this so-called ‘bliss’, but here I am with a house, dog, job, and healthy body and nothing to feel about it.

Yeah, I don’t have a wife and kids, but that’s just because I’m 24, and none of the perverts at work appeal to me. Bars aren’t my scene. I haven’t had wine outside my house in years. I only just now decided to use the glasses from the crystal cabinet. The process was unbelievably un-titilating.

 

Who are you?

Generic?

Boring?

Bored?

I don’t really know who you are. I’ve gotten stuck where I’m at, and this is all there is for me… Tiffany. The generic white girl. Boring and bored of all things enveloped in existence. I’m successful by means of society life, but living… That’s the stuff of legend. You heard of it? I would love to stay and chat, but I’ve got monotony to return to. Maybe we could grab coffee again.

 

I left that coffee shop with little means of recovery, but you tried. Offered another day of your time, but your life actually beckoned you. You’d be somewhere else with other, more awake, people. A person more alive. A person that mattered. I wish I mattered, but my inability to feel also prohibits me to care enough to do anything too strenuous about it. Also, if you aren’t willing to pull me from the pit of the null and the void, then empty is where I shall stay.

 

But coffee was nice.

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