The Singular They Them Reason Why I'm Alive - Theo Thimo
Someone meaningful enters the room — “Great news!”
"You fuck!" I shout and instantly wonder how that word ever came to mean something bad. "As if your laptop even had a chance," I say, referencing a distant concern.
I’m sitting on the toilet, it’s incredible. I never want to die, I’m so sad that this could ever be taken away from me.
On one unemployed afternoon, a radio transmission emits a request from my smartphone, leading to two friends to smoke weed platonically under an array of poorly rendered clouds off the Atlantic coast of North America.
Side by side in ethical apparel and alone in their own worlds, "I don’t have any romantic feelings for you," she makes statement, "and I have decided about poetry."
"That means I’m over it," her friend who is me makes retort, "because neither do I and I never have."
They were in love, this pair, so so so brave to live with this weird fear from the unknown things stored within them since birth.
"How do we begin to examine this life?" he asks towarding her, “At times objectively displeasurable, other times not so bad?”
“In praise of the individual,” she’s looking unemployed, “I have chosen to assimilate within the messed up world."
I’m feeling somewhat badass down this street like a shaggy dog, not wanting to die. The world seems but a wisp. This story believes nothing yet still apologizes when wrong.
"I solved for X," the cashier says, returning my change.
"Get out of the way," someone kicks open the glass entrance of the deli in a respectful manner, "I’m trying to get some milk!"
My psyche reflects on the extended break up with my current live-in partner when this same patron taps me on the shoulder, “The only real news is your life,” he tells me, “today’s big scoop: what’s for breakfast!”
It was really in the parking lot when I was just talking about Abey when she actually pulls up in her minivan. Her sans introduction has me graceful and perplexed and with it I learned something more about myself than it seems she meant to show.
It appears to me that I could be something of meaning to other people which is strange with knowing how little I understand the meaning of value in general and neither can I accurately describe any emotional state that varies from docile dissatisfaction to pessimism while I stand in the bathroom for no reason just to avoid my girlfriend and her friends.
Suddenly, a staunch atheist hears a faint whisper in the back of his internal monologue. It says, "Me, your heart and soul, secretly believes, hungers for a truth and refuses to die alone."
Laughing since it's still so new, I think about what was just sent to me over the internet and feel not so unsure but also as if something in me was unlimitedly in buffer.
So it seems what affects my character grows impersonal over time after the birth of Christ, in what would be otherwise clear skies, where impressionable youths find comfort in deep meme lore and catfishing strangers as their national pastime.
I start cringing so hard I just had to go, “Don’t talk about that with me here,” singing it almost before jumped my torso over the handrail and watched POV motor vehicles circumventing the intersection, asking, "Why God, whhyyyyyyyy?"
I know if you’re reading this you’re probably thinking I am just being overtly dramatic but I vow to take my revenge on anyone who might believe that.
I was not born here for no reason. And my body is not mine, but my soul is there seemingly captured within it and my hands and mouth hint to it being there and I have been given ability to capture this in a transcribable form.
On my way out of a dojo magazine launch party, just to leave, just to go when she took me by the shoulder there and spinning me like with no vertigo. I shout, “Don’t touch me!” “Where are you going?” But I was already gone, whispering, “I’m over this.” “Over what?” “Under where?” “Leave.” “Peace,” and the whole day just said, “Yes.”
The trees, there were none, but the pavement was okay and full of flaws. And I am currently in the activity of hearing my own heartbeat here for no reason and I feel like I don’t know at the thought of having to find a job again, how long has it been?
Feeling now what I don't know, like the reason again, yes.
For some reason I’m high and doing chores around the house I grew up in where someday another little boy or girl might be in my place not knowing what to do and having no idea of who I am while putting garments in different compartments like a future gift, but for who I wonder.
What’s up with me and my inner being never being about anything here? Overhead there’s the moon with the sky being undescribed in front of me. I focus for less than some minutes before I turn to a blank stare at the nothing type beat of my mind. Many various elements seemingly make me up. Yes, feeling whatever about life, okay, but still doing something. That, to me, is everything.
So for now, bye!
Theo Thimo cpraised by Em Brill as “funny, impertinent,” and hailed by fiction editor of Grub Street Magazine as “truly a writer of our time,” Theo Thimo is a New York-based Albanian immigrant. Their work as been featured in Muumuu House, Shabby Doll House, Vice, and others and has received recognition from the New York Times and Honeysuckle Magzine. In 2017, Theo was accepted into the Mars Tua Vita Mea workshop from portions of his forthcoming chapbook, “Trauma in Metro.” In 2022, their self-published poetry chapbook “OMG THE DAY,” led to their eventual arrest by the NYPD.