I just killed a spider, and I am devastated.
I had been thinking of boys, ex’s, and boyfriends -what if you kept track of all your boyfriends, or every single guy you liked. What if the first letter of their first name -combined all together- was a message. And, if it was a message, what would it say? Would it say the name of the final guy you’re supposed to be with?
What if you calculated it all out, you wrote down all those first letters of all those first names -of any guy you ever said, “Aw, I like him,” and it came down to this message: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y
Well, holy mother f’er. I don’t know about you, but I was thinking -if that happened to me, I’d surely be going: “Okay, cool. Wow, really? So, I guess my final and most perfect guy has a name that starts with the letter ‘z,’ and who has a name like that? I mean, really. Oh wait -there’s Zach. I liked a Zach once. I never thought how cool his name was, simply for having the last letter of the alphabet -then again, it was elementary school, and what did I know?“
So, now what? Well, I wasn’t sure, but I instantly thought of Zoolander and Ben Stiller. Then I thought of the tragedy in that situation.
Let’s say special-letter-z, the love of my whole life -was, in fact, Zoolander via Benny Stills. So what? Okay, so this: I instantly saw what would happen. I’d be like, “You’re super creepy, you’re scaring me, stop, please.”
Little would I know that -hey, this is Ben Stiller, he’s an actor in Hollywood, and he’s just playing wit’ ya. Instead, I would go off first impressions and be like, “You’re so weird.” I wouldn’t say it to his face, but it’d be within my mind’s thoughts, while I simply looked at him, bitchly (why isn’t that a word), without knowing I was looking that way. Then, Mr. Stiller would be like “Marcia” times three, we would part, and I’d be like: “Cool. I’m a widow of my soulmate, Mr Alphabetical Z. A thing called ‘fate’ -it’s fiction, and now I’m pissed.” Nevertheless, this would be mere fiction in itself, for I don’t believe in anger; so, I’d have to come to the harsh reality that -yes, my anger is covering the sadness that I withhold for the letter ‘Z’.
I want to be a better girl -a better person. I love saving spiders and little bugs that freak the fuck out of me. I started doing it years ago. Every time I let one free, I feel free -and, it’s like: “Wow, there you go! There.you.live. If I’d killed you, you wouldn’t be walking right now.”
I saw this spider scurry across my bed -across the mattress. I instantly felt fear: “What if you have friends? What if you have a family? How did you get here? I can’t let this happen.” And, he could tell. He could sense my fear, for he stopped in his tracks. Meanwhile, I looked for something -anything- to capture him. Suddenly, I thought -maybe I won’t have to do what I feel the urge to do (take his life, in order for me to forget and release the stupid fear).
I saw a large & empty plastic bottle (BPA free, the special kind I get at Whole Foods -the kind that makes me feel like, “Wow, yum, I never have tasted such great water, and I better pound it.”). Grabbing it, I proceeded to fiercely clamp it upon the bedspread -hoping that the spider was caught within the small circle of the plastic bottle opening. Instantly, I felt I had failed, thus I smashed the spider in a paper towel -with all my might, to end this moment in which I’d totally and completely disappointed the story of my life.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
How do you forgive yourself when you take a life -when you are the reason behind the fact that something that was able to crawl -it cannot crawl anymore.
It’s more than crude. If you care about the living -just like Michael Jackson, then you shouldn’t hurt spiders or ants -and, I shouldn’t hurt them either.
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