Casey and the Gold Stars

When they ask me how I'm doing
I tell them I'm fine

Have you stopped drinking?
Yes

Have you started eating?
Yes

How are you doing?
Fine

They never ask

Do you still hate yourself?

They never ask

Do you still want to die?

They never ask
If I get up everyday
Wishing a knife would come down from my ceiling
And go right through me
So that I wouldn't have to get out of bed

They don't ask that

They just ask if the bruises are gone
And I tell them yes

I tell them I'm fine

I think we've successfully managed as a society
To completely redefine the word 'fine'

'Fine' now means 'I'm still fucked up, but I'm alive and show no sign of dying or winding up in the hospital anytime soon'
'Fine' now means 'Every problem I have is being treated with drugs and therapy'
'Fine' now means 'I'm a mess but I won't permanently stain you'

I find that I'm even saying it myself now

I look at jars of food I want to consume
Boxes and piles and drawers and cupboards
And refrigerators and freezers of food

And I say, 'I'm fine'

I go out and watch my friends drink in front of me
Because I insist that they do
That they should
That it's only fair that I not ruin the lives
Of everyone around me
More than I already did a year ago

And as I watch the drink go down their throats
It's like watching an ex-boyfriend fuck some new prettier girl
And I want to take the glass and smash it against their heads
And then get my purse and walk out
Like I'm not totally insane

And instead I watch them drink
And I sip my coke

And I say 'I'm fine'

I sit at home
Alone
I endure endless reruns of "Three's Company"

I buy notebooks
That I don't write in

I journal my feelings
And then looking at my feelings
I feel like I want to kill myself
More than I already do

I make lunch dates
So I feel social

I buy cookbooks
So I feel domestic

I phone people I don't want to talk to
Just so I can feel connected

And when I'm done
With all this bullshit
I pretend that there's a little calendar on the wall
And I give myself a gold star for the day

Today I was a normal person
Today I earned my gold star

And sometimes I have bad days
When I indulge in my own nonsense

I don't lapse, not really

I just stop being 'fine'

I send out long e-mails to my friends
Disguised as poetry
Detailing all the fucked up things
I still think about myself

I put on porn and try to develop
A sexual addiction
And instead I end up judging the girls in the movies
For having fake breasts

I soak in a long bath
Letting errands go undone
Phones vibrate
Worlds turn

And I sit and I soak
And I tell myself

'I'm fine'

And I imagine the imaginary gold stars
Falling off the imaginary calendar in the kitchen
As more and more gold stars and appear and fall
Appear and fall
Appear and fall

Until the floor is cover in them
A shiny perfect golden floor
Of achievement

And the gold stars
Sneak under the bathroom door
And come up to the top of the bathtub
And poor in with me

Cleansing me of my inability
To do anything right

Pretty soon I can't see my body
Underneath the water
Just the gold stars

And then I begin to think
Maybe I'm a gold star

And then I am a gold star

I'm a brilliant burst of light

A healthy happy sticky patch
On a square
That says today

And I do the errands
And I stop the world
And I get off
And I answer the phone

And I say--in a very cheerful and sing-song-y voice--

'I'M FINE!'

Then there are the questions
I ask myself

Did you look at the calendar today?
Yes

Did you notice how many days are left in the year?
Yes

Do you actually think you're going to throw away a calendar that doesn't have at least one day on it marked in red signifying that you royally fucked it up?

...I don't know

What happens if you don't know
The answers to the questions?

Do you still get a gold star?