όđ𝐞 ŦỖ 𝔪Ў ѕ𝕌𝔹𝓈ᵗⒶŇᶜ𝐞 ᗩ𝒷𝓊𝕊𝔢
Annie Laurie Daniel
I like to have fun, I’m just having fun, please crawl out of your apartment and have fun with me
I do everything alone, it’s haunting, call the ghost hunter I need an exorcism
There is glitter on my face and old mascara that dried vertically, like two rivers from my eyes that beg for attention at the bus stop,
“notice me, ask me what’s wrong”
I flip my purse inside out looking for my phone, a loose cigarette, or maybe just somewhere to go, the party’s over and my tights are ripped
I sleep through important meetings, I never return calls, I’m an elusive creative, one of the greats
How could my suffering ever be understood ?
I take a lukewarm bath because I don’t deserve to feel fully relaxed, it’s late afternoon now and my thighs and elbows push against the porcelain tub, reminding my brain that I can never fully escape this physical form,
I am my chipped painted fingernails, I am my infected nipple ring
I inhale whatever is on my coffee table, it’s just me again tonight
When I open my closet and see the skeleton of sobriety, I take him in my arms and we dance together
He tries to seduce me into his alternative lifestyle, but i’m not interested, so I stuff him back between winter coats, shame, and cleaning supplies
I drink my loved ones under the table, and while they’re down there I try not to kick them in the teeth, I ask them to admire my shoes, my pedicure, while I break wine bottles and clear my schedule, I’ll be here all night
Alone, after I’ve finished singing Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” to myself, I crawl under and curl up next to them, resting my heavy head on a bag of unopened UberEats
If I think too much about the time I’ve wasted hunched over my toilet, begging for forgiveness, promising to flush my powdered nose out with the old, in with the new
I start to panic, I want a family, I want to make something that people think is valuable to society, maybe a New York Times write up, maybe a soulmate, maybe if I can’t achieve my dreams I’ll just distract myself
My art feels unimportant and boring, instead of pursuing it fully with pride and a clear mind, I’ll get overdressed and spill drinks on a handsome stranger,
After a lengthy conversation they’ll tell me I’m interesting and beautiful and that, for tonight, will be enough
Annie Laurie Daniel is a Los Angeles-based experimental theater artist and poet whose work spans performance, film, and installation. They earned a BFA in Acting from the California Institute of the Arts in 2019. Their solo show Bedwetting premiered at the 2024 Hollywood Fringe Festival.