10.17.10
They Shoot Each Other, Don’t They?
I turned on my heel, and said “I can’t believe this,” out loud. Not making eye contact with anyone, I Olympic-gold-medal speed walked briskly past the line that I was allegedy trying to cut, as tears welled up in my eyes. As I headed toward the door, shaking, I heard One Nice Woman say, ”It’s ok!” beckoning me to come back and, for once in my life, finish what I had started — paying witness to the fact that I was not the con artist Loudjokeylady thought me to be.
I burst through one door and the next, out onto the street, Nicki Minaj pounding her way through my giant headphones, vaseline for my tired brain, and my ever-longer life, and I thanked One Nice Woman silently from the bottom of my tiny, coal black heart.
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