Fucking Garbage (Guest post: Emily Brown)

 

Hey.

 

We don’t need you.

 

I don’t get to say shit like this often, because I’m too nice. Or too awkward. I don’t like making waves, it’s uncomfortable. I shop at Old Navy and I’m not boring, I just don’t care. But listen, I’ve had two glasses of wine on an empty stomach, and I’m not saying this because I’m drunk, I’m saying it because I want to. I’m happy about it, actually; fuck. We don’t need you. And it’s so good to realize that.

 

You know I threw the last thing you sent me away. Just put it in the fucking garbage. Then I swept my floor, and I cleaned my counters, and when I sprayed the cleaner on them it smelled so fresh – so new. I scrubbed them harder than normal because I enjoyed how good it feels to clean sometimes, and after I was done I let the dog out and I did not look at the fucking garbage and I knew that we were done and we would make it without you. So how does that feel?

 

Does it feel as good as you thought it might?

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