The Pity Party

The Pity Party

Faint screams. Shouting through hoarse tears that you will never get what you want because you are a terrible horrible person. My silky white-blonde pre-chemo hair blocking any last view of you.

Hairy skin covered with a few extra layers, all stuffed into the same black jeans we bought after sushi on Lincoln Rd landed on your lap before the Chainsmokers show. Cheeks covering tiny unreadable eyes. Were your eyes always so small? Arms around your bros in the hometown you swore you would never end up in. That smile. That pasted-on fake smile I only saw once in a photo Greg took of us right after we fought over some guy I knew at Liv.

You didn’t come with me when I let go of the weight of our mistakes made in the South Florida heat. You’re not in that forgiving paradise I painted for you in LA, where your genie gives you unlimited wishes.

You’re not happy.

And those echoes and faint screams from years ago cut through me in horror as I force myself to scroll past the photo on our last mutual friend’s Instagram.

This isn’t the sweet revenge I wanted then, but something so much worse….

<3 M.

Marji J. Sherman

Expert in NFTs, metaverse, social, and digital marketing.

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