​DAMN, HOW I ENVY THEM

I’ve always envied people who have things so easy. Things have always been hard for me, and even then, I’m still missing everything.

Getting up every morning to go to a shitty job, for a salary that isn’t even enough to pay the rent, looking at everything they have.

Damn, how I envy them.

When the accusations started at work, I had no idea what they were talking about. I’ve never stolen anything, no matter how much envy ate away at me.

Money was missing from the register. There was a lot of gossip among my coworkers. But I wasn’t the only one who had access to it. And I couldn’t remember touching a single cent.

As a child, I used to have blackouts. Sometimes I’d wake up in places I didn’t recognize.

But that doesn’t mean it was me.

Things have been appearing in the house.

I’ve hallucinated and found new furniture.

But it was only my desire for things to change, to become more beautiful, because then I come home and the house is still a mess, smelling of poverty.

The hallucinations keep getting worse.

I go to the refrigerator to get some juice.

I look around, trying to remember when I bought all of this.

Maybe it was on sale.

Maybe I paid for it in installments.

I check my bank account, looking for some receipt that might help me remember.

I can’t find one.

My mind keeps playing tricks on me.

The accusations at work keep growing.

I no longer know what’s real and what’s fantasy.

I sit down in the chair, its backrest more comfortable than the one on my old chair.

The phone keeps ringing.

And suddenly, there’s a pounding at the door.

Someone is calling for me from outside.

The police are waiting
to put me in handcuffs and take me away.