I want to be a crumb. I want to be a forgotten piece of bread on the kitchen floor that even the dog doesn't notice. All I want to do all day of everyday is curl up in a ball and forget. I want to forget the loneliness, depression, anger, hurt, and confusion.
My brain hurts as it becomes that dried-up, old piece of food that no vacuum can ever seem to reach, but my body is still here. There is still so much to do. Contrary to my belief, the world has not stopped and I have to keep pushing through.
I can't be the crumb on the ground, I have to be the breadwinner. I still have class, I still have duty, I still have work, I still have to take care of myself. I'm slicing myself up into rations that should hold me over for the rest of the semester, but it seems no matter how hard I try, I'm starving.
My expiration date has long passed, but yet I sit on the countertop waiting for someone to use me, unable to throw myself out because I can't afford to. I need it to keep going, even if it makes me sick. I'm so close to the end. I have to see it through.
It's not good enough. Everyday gets harder and harder as I get progressively more stale by the hour. I tighten up and shut everyone out. I look for crumbs on the floor to find something that will hold me over to the next day. But I find myself envious of the people who are making their homemade bread. How can they make their own bread when I feel spoiled and moldy?
Erica Ruggiero is a senior at SUNY New Paltz and a Chronogram intern.
