"As far as bathrooms are concerned this one is your run of the mill single occupancy. There are two options open to whomever you choose to be on any given day, though I only had the pleasure of visiting the one closest to the kids corner. At first I wasn’t impressed but after flushing, washing, and waiting on an EZ Bake hand dryer I was pleasantly surprised to find the door handle was missing. Maybe “pleasantly surprised” is the wrong phrase. Over the past few months I hadn’t been able to get a handle on anything, my life was slipping out from under me and I was watching it go, inch by inch, crawling towards the door. Now, there was no where to go. Just me alone in a room with my thoughts. I reached for my phone but no forums, no email, no swipe through tinder would keep me from experiencing this world and all it had to offer. Four walls. Running water. A place to sit. The bare minimum dream. Why do I feel the need for anything more? I reconsider my entire life, turning it over in my hand, looking at the slippery underbelly of what I had become. A wage slave. A petty politicker. An attention junkie looking for another fix. Credit card debt is piling and I don’t have the means to buy myself a proper bed. I’ve been sleeping on a couch for two months now and, though it is a wonderful and pricey couch, it is still a couch. It’s the last remnants of a relationship gone sour. It’s the last thing holding me down because it’s the only thing I can’t stuff in the back of my car to escape this progressive farce of a city. A town that calls itself green is running red with corporate buyouts and political favors in exchange for rooftop cheese tricked into taxing itself as if it will be the Hail Mary to get to the shining utopia where every citizen has an espresso in their hand, a smile on their face, and rock-climbing shoes at the back of their closet collecting dust; but all that tax money goes right out the community to let corporations bump their stock, leaving us with a string of small businesses struggling to afford doorknobs. I love what Chaco Canyon has done here: they’ve left the doorknob off in protest. It’s a political statement, a symbol of the oppressed! I told myself I could leave this city at any time but now I can see, truly, how trapped I am in this lifestyle. I’m living someone else’s dream while stuck on the sidelines wondering what went wrong. Leaving school with only a two year degree? Pursuing my art? Investing my savings in crypto currency? I was spiraling. The room joined in and whirlibirded before my eyes. How long until I’ll be just like those psychopaths out there, paying out the nose for vegetables and proud of it? Ghostly Cherub feet of unborn children danced on my future grave. Am I ready to give in and let myself start an IRA: I saw the tired eyes of my father flash before me, clouded over with dreams of life after retirement. I nearly yakked. Luckily, it was at that moment a woman knocked. Are you okay? “Could you open the door for me?” She obliged. I walked out of the bathroom covered in sweat, found my seat, and pretended to belong with the rest of them. My mask was so cracked I was convinced someone would notice, but nobody did. Each was caught up in their worlds, doting on the eyes of their children, whispering to each other about how long the wait is, wondering if they should take their food to go: insulated from the horrible truths of the restroom. 5/5 would suffer an existential crisis here again."
