“Stop tellin’ people you’re fine – you’re not fine!”
The Kermit the Frog plush sad idly on Sera’s chair. She kept pacing across her studio apartment, arms tightly folded across her chest as the plush looked on, deaf and blind to the whole scene.
“But what’s fine anyway? Does ‘fine’ even exist? How can anyone be fine!” She roared at no one while failing her arms.
“Maybe fine is when you’re feeling nothing and everything at the same time, like two hours after eating gelato on a hot day…or while you’re in the shower after a slow day of work…” She tapped her chin twice.
“I don’t know what I feel. I don’t feel happy, but I’m not sad. I’m not hungry, but I could eat. I slept enough, but could use a nap.”
Sera picked up the Kermit plush, sat down, and placed it on her lap while fingering the felt collar.
“Why do people lie, tell you what you need to do, though they did it and barely smile? I have a fuckin’ degree, and barely save a penny every month…no one talks about that because unemployment is worse than underemployment. Society doesn’t know shit.”
She squeezed Kermit’s arms, then screamed.
She panted then began crying. He tears dampened the top of the plush’s head.
Sera sobbed, “Being a woman…is…so…hard…especially if you’re not pale…or skinny…but I’m supposed to ignore that, supposed to ‘suck it up buttercup’? BULLSHIT!”
She flung Kermit across the room, then stood up and walked to her street-facing window. For a minute, she watched different people crossing the street and power walking the sidewalks.
“How many of those people went on an interview, and had the interviewer look disappointed at who showed up? How many of them knew they didn’t have the job the minute they walked in the door, despite their level of talent and hustle?” I’m done hustling, done with people acting like there’s no wage gap, no institutionalized racism, no profiling of any kind. I’m done…”
She began wailing again, as she sunk to the linoleum floor, warped by years of wear and tear.
Photo Credit: Erik Mclean