Thursday, February
1, 2018
I wrote a letter to my friend in Australia. On paper.
With a pen. I need to know something about what’s happening in the world, and I
couldn’t think of anything else to do. I walked to the post office after school
with it – and that’s not close! – and just got a blank stare from the mailman.
He looked like he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it. Finally, I
said, “I want to mail this.”
His expression didn’t change. He said, “Are you
sure?” I said, “Of course, I’m sure.”
He said, “You know we’re not accepting any mail from
outside the country, right?”
I think I probably stared blankly at him because I
hadn’t known that. So I asked why not. He just shrugged, then, for a moment, he
looked like he wanted to say something, then shrugged again. I said, “What does
that mean?” And he answered that it meant that I could mail the letter and it
might even get there but I wouldn’t get anything back even if my friend
responded. I cussed.
We stared at each other for a while and his expression
never changed. He looked bored. I stood there getting angry.
Finally, I took his pen, opened the envelope as
carefully as I could, wrote a note at the end of the letter to my friend that
he probably couldn’t write me back, asked for some tape and sealed the letter
back up, and told the dude I wanted to mail the letter. He told me it would be
$7.00.
$7.00! I think I cussed again. I’m not actually sure.
I don’t remember what I said, only that I was SO angry. His expression changed,
though, to shock. I didn’t have $7.00 with me. Since when did it cost $7.00 to
mail a letter? To anywhere? I stormed out and tried to slam the door. I really
wanted to slam the door, but it had one of those stupid hydraulic arms, and I
couldn’t make it slam. I’m pretty sure I screamed.
Now I have this letter that’s worthless. If I’d had
the $7.00 while I was there, I would have mailed it, but there’s hardly a point
in making another special trip to mail a letter which might not ever arrive and
from which I will get no response.
So I tried to sneak a long distance call, and that was
worthless, too. After almost an hour, I got connected to the operator because I was trying to make
something that wasn’t a local call and was told that only local calls could be
direct dialed anymore; everything else had to go through an operator and
approved before it could be made. Which explains why it took me so long to get
through, because the operators are backlogged with calls. AND she told me we
were going to be billed JUST because I talked to her. $12.00! Twelve fucking
dollars so that the operator could tell me that I couldn’t make my call. My mom
is going to kill me.
There are a lot of rumors at school. Almost everyone
has their own rumor. Almost none of them have to do with China taking over any
part of the United States, though some of them are that Russia has invaded New
York. And a lot of people are saying that there is fighting in New York. A lot
of it. With tanks and missiles and all of that. I don’t know if I believe it or
not.
Some people are saying it’s because Russia invaded and
the fighting is against the Russians.
But some people are saying that it’s New York fighting
against Trump and the United States.
They’re saying it’s a civil war. A new civil war. And
that’s why that thing from the Statue of Liberty is showing up everywhere.
It is, too.
There are new flyers on buildings everyday.
Give
me your tired, your poor,
your
huddled masses yearning to breathe free…
It makes me cry sometimes. I feel like I’m yearning to
breathe free.
I hate it here.
It even showed up on TV yesterday. When the teacher
was turning on the TV for Trump’s daily shitfest, she accidentally changed the
channel… and there it was, just on the screen.
Give
me your tired, your poor,
your
huddled masses yearning to breathe free…
come to California
Oh, God, I want to go to California! Or Washington. Or
even Oregon. Anywhere that is out of this hell of a place where I feel like I’m
a flower without sun.
No one said anything when it was on the screen. It was
like no one breathed. Four seconds… five… I don’t know. Long enough for me not
to be the only one with tears in my eyes.
Then the teacher changed it back to the right channel
and Trump was talking, and I did cry. Sobbed. I wasn’t even embarrassed because
I wasn’t the only one. Shelly ran out of the room with her hands over her face.
That was the first time I realized how many kids are
missing from my classes…
Mom is calling. Dinner, probably. Yea. More hamburger
meat and baked potatoes. It will be the third day in a row.
