Author: Sophia Katz

Sophia Katz lives in Toronto. Her work has been published in Everyday Genius, Human Parts, and That Lit Site. She can also be found on Twitter and Tumblr.

How to be productive while extremely depressed

I can never really tell if I am lonely or just alone

Usually I just put something in my face and forget about it

This time the thing I am putting in my face was purchased in a bakery

The bakery sells ice cream

The bakery opened at 7am

I was waiting outside at 6:30am

I am having auditory hallucinations of Aaron Carter’s song “Aaron’s Party (Come Get It)”

I am licking the bottom of my ice cream cone to maintain an aire of mystery

Will your motives change with your new experiences

Will your motives jerk you into a harmless cycle of self-reflection

I watch the empty patio remain empty

With what I assume is a slightly agitated, phlegmatic facial expression

The only other person in the bakery maintains a steady level of productivity

The only other person in the bakery begins putting things in cupboards behind the counter

This person owns the bakery

This person let me into the bakery

The bakery owner stops putting things in cupboards to focus his attention on staring angrily out the window

At a pelican pecking lethargically at breadcrumbs on the concrete

I remembered the oxycontin in my pocket

A stressed out grad student walks in and sits in the corner adjacent to me

She removes a textbook and a notebook and another notebook from her tote bag

On her way to the counter she looks back to check that her things are still on the table

The only person who could have taken them would be me

I am still focused on the empty patio

My focus is slowly shifting to my stomach, which seems pretty pissed off

“Thanks for feeding me ice cream for breakfast you fucking asshole,” thinks my stomach

The grad student returns to her table in the corner and docilely opens her textbook

She looks at it generally, seemingly, for ~10 minutes before turning any pages

My digestive system is hating on me

The grad student clocks her textbook in the face

My digestive system remains an overused, pissed off miracle

My digestive system sucker punches itself

The pelican on the sidewalk flies away

I am stoned and the sun is setting

A sheer red dress i’ve never worn
Is hanging on a rack in front of my window
The sunlight flows through the dress
So its pigment turns a kind of ‘blood orange’

I hear gunshots ~1 mile away,
Like the clicks before a dial tone
My macbook screen is distracting my eyes

My heart stops for a second
My lap gets hot
My skin turns red
My eyes close

The holes in my wall spill tiny bits of sawdust
Into my bed, and onto my floor
And onto my clothing which is covering most of my floor
Along with empty glasses
And plastic sunglasses

You can tell a lot about a person
By their favorite seat on a bus
And if they’ve never ridden a bus
That says even more

You sit one row behind the handicapped seating
I sit as far back as i can
You listen to your ipod
I try to fall asleep

The only thing i put a lot of effort into is hiding myself
Soon you will realize that those things coming out of my mouth
Are just words
Basically useless