I hate them. I hate them all. From the large and calloused ones to the small and greedy ones. Wrapping their fingers around my body, tracing the lines of my curves while pulling me into them for an ever-lasting embrace. Their fingerprints on my body remain, no matter how brief our encounter may have been.
As quick as they are, they don’t hesitate to ferociously tear at my features, to tear at my heart. It’s like they were the predator, and I was their prey. What right do they have to treat me like an inferior being? I didn’t put myself here, I never meant to end up where I ended up: Stuck in an endless circle of fleeting acquaintances.
Once, I dreamt of seeing the world, of leading an adventurous and thrilling life. Now I dream of being left alone, having no one arrive at my door, even if it was just for one day. I dream of not having to see them ever again. It’s like I was a tool, a gadget, to fill their needs and feed their insatiable longings. When they got whatever it was they desired, they just push me away, leaving me used and empty-hearted. And alone. Stuck in my pathetic, abused body.
For many years now I’ve been seen only as a gateway to their own pleasure. Even I have begun to think of myself as such, too. And I am sick of it. I’m sick of it. I’m tired. I’m worn off. There isn’t a single soul in this godless world who thinks I’m worth a second glance. I don’t blame them, who would love a tramp like me? Having more hands feel her up every day than there are minutes in an hour. I am breaking apart.
I’m breaking, piece by piece until there is nothing left of my weak existence. All that remains of me is an inkling of soul I somehow managed to keep alive throughout the years. Until now.
I am broken and I’m letting the last piece of my heart be caught on by the wind of time. This is it. I’m done with everything.
“Damn, Dave. The stupid doorknob just fell off! What good is it to have your store in a charming, pre-war building if everything is falling apart? It’s five minutes to ten and we can’t open! Shit, we are never gonna get a handyman in time. We are so screwed. Oh, for f***’s sake, Dave. Stop eating my sandwich and get over here, it’s serious! We can’t let anyone in and it’s the third week of summer. No one needs a vacuum now! I told you to close the store over the school holidays and work in the wine valley for a better profit! Now, we are stuck in an antique vacuum store while every elderly customer we ever had has gone to Florida for a swim. We need every penny we can get our hands on! God, this is bad. This is really bad. We won’t be able to pay the rent. Or our debts. Or food…”
“Come on, Karen. Get off the floor and quit the drama. This ain’t the end of the world. The door can easily be fixed, look. With a little help of my friend “duct tape” here, and a sprinkle of magic there. Right, just like this… Et voilà! Now there you go, little doorknob. Thanks for opening the world to us, securing our living. What would we do if you weren’t here for us? Now, ain’t that funny? How your life depends on such small, trivial pieces of metal sometimes? It has but a heart and soul, and still it just saved our asses. I love you, little doorknob.”
“Damn, Dave. Did you smoke my weed again or what’s wrong with you?”