Apr/May 2018 Nonfiction

One Act

by Amy Braziller

Found: in ABQ – studio art jewelry by Jessica deGruyter

Found: in ABQ – studio art jewelry by Jessica deGruyter

April 18, 7:17pm, @meridian10036: In 15 minutes I will not exist.

I am not sure when it sets in motion, how to tell your story, the one I scribbled over, the one my eyes pierced for four nights, maybe more, unsolved. I filed it away for later, but later is now.

April 10, 5:35am, @meridian10036: Writer's block is like constipation of the mind. Why won't the words come out?
April 13, 1:16pm, @meridian10036: My guilty pleasure is Celebrity Apprentice. I love that show.
April 18, 8:21am, @meridian10036: I don't understand the words good, bad, kind, and mercy. Their meanings are subjective. I am just bitter, angry, sad, and helpless.

Don't be disheartened. You have Twitter. Every celebrity and their legions of fans tweet.
No days without drama. Reading you, reading others, looking for stories in your stories, mapping connections, looking for me in your words—this is my guilty pleasure.

@captainmanpower: can you ReTweet this? a woman in Brooklyn is claiming she'll commit suicide, but we/police can't identify her.

Every so often I return to your story, to the words arranged in a collection of nine days, and I rearrange them, starting in the middle, looking for clues, for a truth, for a way to read you.

April 14, 2:15am, @meridian10036: I can't sleep so I'm posting on Twitter.
April 14, 5:59pm, @meridian10036: I want to work at the Insurance Institute and crash cars for a living.
April 18, 8:22am, @meridian10036: I cry so much that the tears burn.
April 18, 8:22am, @meridian10036: I saw a woman in the subway in a pink dress and a tiara yelling, "I am the Statue of Liberty." I am her. She is me. I feel like a crazy.

I wander Twitter in the middle of the night, following you, your words, since, like me, there must be others who can't sleep, like you.

April 18, 8:24am, @meridian10036: I pray for the courage 2 throw myself on the subway tracks on Monday before it happens.

Someone spoke with the Brooklyn police, at least that's what I read, and maybe you read it, too. They need your phone number. Nothing they can do without a phone number, your phone number. They said to hope for the best. I'd tweet this now, but it is later than now. Days later than now. Years later than now.

I go back to the almost beginning and run it to the end, hoping still.

April 8, 6:59am, @meridian10036: Twitter will make someone famous.
April 18, 7:17pm, @meridian10036: Thank u God 4 giving me the strength 2 do this.

I wonder if someone will investigate. I retrace and rearrange, reorder time, reorder you. But you are gone from this moment. Account deleted.


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