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Big Girl Pants

I have to put on my big girl pants now.

I have to stop dredging the crumbs of old love in consciousness.

I've gotten pretty stupid since I finished school.

I've gotten pretty lazy since I quit chasing after dick.

These days my heart is an ugly and mean kind of woman. The kind of woman who buys her cocktail dress at a k-mart after pawning off her engagement ring. The kind of woman who hates everything around her besides her medication and pomeranian.

So I'm going to leave. I'm going to leave that awful woman behind. If I stay, she will surely consume me, licking the bones of a lively girl clean.

I could stay- I see every little detail of my future come alive before me.

A future that would inevitably involve pant suits.

Fire and brimstone can't burn my spirit like polyester.

So I'll take the fear, the loneliness and the uncertainty of a life founded on the caprices of imagination rather than settle for the security of a life without dreams.


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'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…