paper scraps

madeleine anderlik
illustrated by jenna lee jane

1.

i dreamt i was in a movie and kissed my best friend.

i had to stand in front of a room of people today who all looked like me
but prettier. my brain feels fuzzy
and my stomach is full of tangerine juice.
my skin tingles like electric currents are running
through it and not in a good way.

my heart raced and my fingers shook and i could barely type

out my paper because it felt like i was hitting the wrong keys.
i hate that feeling.

i know that sometimes not knowing is better than knowing because then
there is still a possibility. but in those times knowing is all you want.
not knowing sucks sometimes.
in other news, the coronavirus is a thing??

clarity. i choose hope and energy.

an elephant sits on my bed.
she is dirty and old.
FUCK. i’m mad.
the breeze above my head keeps me cool.
much of what you feel is real.


2.

my mom had to wait 45 minutes to buy nuts and cheese and chips from woodmans. there isn’t
any toilet paper at target. my friend has to wear a vogmask when she leaves her house. my friend
and i drank two bottles of wine on my couch. the next morning he found out he was out of a job
because they’re closing all the restaurants. at 10 pm my sister finds out they're closing the store
she works at. i drank another bottle of wine but then i read online that alcohol weakens your
immune system. i ate the 45 minute nuts.

i felt fear in my gut. it twisted and turned all day, it felt like curdled milk was sloshing around in
my stomach and i don’t even eat dairy. today’s moon in scorpio delivers the jolt of electricity
you’ve been yearning for. i’m scared of a lot of things.

7:02 pm my director asks if we should continue doing rehearsals. we talk for at least thirty
minutes. no real consensus is reached, but i know whatever the mixed up answer is doesn’t
make my stomach feel any better. 9:47 pm i make a peanut butter jelly sandwich. there has to be
more peanut butter than jelly, and it has to be white bread, the sugary soft kind that melts in your
mouth. not too much filling. 10:33 i make a second sandwich.
3.

do you ever put a song on just to cry?

i call over and ask her to play it
she plays it twice because she knows it’s my favorite.

i slathered concealer all over my chin

for a video call and i felt silly but i did it anyway.
hard candy rolls around in my mouth and stains my tongue.
i’m afraid to go to the grocery store.
4.

i sharpened my pencil today

but i didn’t write anything.
now it just sits
tucked between pages.

i put tiny paper shapes in their proper place.

sometimes i have to fumble
a few times to get it right. i use tweezers
to be precise.
it has to be perfect
but i don’t know why.
it doesn’t matter to anyone but me.

i danced today. i haven’t danced in a long time.

but i got dressed and i danced in my living room.
i made mashed potatoes
and i laughed and i planted virtual peaches.
5.

my head feels like it’s full of liquid moving

around and I have too many books to read.

sometimes my eyes have trouble focusing.

i have to write a paper but i can’t get my fingers to move.

i’ve been staring at too many screens lately.

i stare at my phone i stare at my tv i stare at my switch.
i see my friends through a screen.
i see my professors through a screen.

i was supposed to be singing

and dancing every day.
i’m a wreck. i need to sing but i can’t
because everyone is home all the time.

i keep wanting to do a puzzle but

i never seem to find the time
despite having all the time in the world.
the mexican restaurant across the street
is serving margaritas to go
so at least that’s something.
6.

lets be jackie and donna for halloween

but what if halloween never comes.
maybe i should dye my hair red anyway.
what does it matter. chop my bangs while i’m at it.
materialize my madness.
7.

it stings a bit like walking on hot sand

my toes sink in and tingle from the sun
it aches like tired legs on the beach
the tide washes everything away
the waves come again and again and again
maybe i stand there too long
but i like the water against my skin
i close my eyes and feel the mist
it stings
8.

today i painted
nothing in particular. for a few minutes
i just mixed random colors together and
spread them across a piece of paper.
i like the feeling of painting,
the smoothness of running a brush over a canvas.

i watch fast colors.

i water down black paint.
now you can see the blue.
sometimes you must be prepared. it’s okay if you cry.
brush the color straight on to your face. your cheeks are tear stained
it will help it blend.
i watch pearlescent bubbles with telescopic eyes.
9.

i celebrated my birthday in quarantine.

i wore a skirt and danced. i drank wine.
i ate grocery store sushi.
i loved my friends from afar.
10.

a book slid off my bed in my sleep.

it feel in between my bed and the wall and the cover ripped.
it felt like a loss when i found it.
for a moment i mourned paper.

lately i feel like a wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie.

suddenly a typo feels like an avalanche.

my mom ordered a hundred glow sticks today.

we bought vodka through a drive through.
we left the car to get bread and it was the best thing i’ve done all week.
lately i only watch things i’ve already seen. that way i don’t have to pay attention.
i don’t have to care that much.
it feels good not to care.
11.

i put on a princess dress and pretended to be someone else for an hour.

now her wig sits empty on my desk. her dress is hollow on the floor.
12.

when you turn, you’re looking at a completely different picture. the colors are the same but they
almost look like they’re in a different order. green rolling mountains or delicate petals. the seeds
reflect back. cotton candy hills. the sky is unchanging. nothing is perfectly round. nothing
makes perfect sense. the rose opens up, you can see her blue center. she floats along the sea, she
paints the water with shades of light.

the shell cracks. he is looking back at you, but he can’t see. many versions of the same subject
over and over. one right after the other. you’ve seen this before, but it’s different.

i can't tell if it’s dripping or stretching. it pulls, maybe it will rip. a cavern of color. of red and
pink. it feels like a dream. it feels like being swallowed up. it feels like love and heartache.

close enough you can’t quite tell. northern lights flow upwards like song. green and yellow
waves vibrate. they try to melt together.

color suspended in time. it rests there. it swims in oil. the white spirit swirls inside. only use it
sparsely. a little bit at a time. move from light to dark. don't forget to watch out for shadows.
they watch out for you.

the beast floats above the mountains. a flower in her hair. crumble. crack. the sky burns. it’s
full of color. the garden blooms despite it all. brilliant turns and spirals curl into itself. the beast
still floats. there is more now, too many. she has grown into a tree, her branches grow around
her. flowers of bone find their home on her skull.

you can see a lighthouse but it’s blocked. you can’t tell if its surrounded by stone or clouds. big
stone walls around the lighthouse. the light can’t get to the water. it tries to push through. the
sky turns dark green. you need light to see.
she hangs her canvas in the desert. the bones keep her company. you wonder if they speak to
her. the canvas is red. the canvas is yellow. the canvas is white. the desert is brown. the desert
is yellow. the desert is red. she paints in the desert. she puts flowers in their hair.

the moon rises. or is it the earth? it looms in the sky. it’s her sister. she spreads color across the
earth. she paints the sky with gold and silver. it glows.

do you listen to the flowers? do you look at them closely?

13.

i think i’ve had a paper thin heart. the edges sort of rough and crumbled.
my heart has bent. maybe not broken. maybe i’m lucky that way.
i never got to say goodbye.

he was nearly a ghost too. but i ignored it. it was easier that way.
i didn’t have enough room for more.
i could have made room.
14.

perhaps im being haunted. the other night my sister and i both heard a noise at the same time. at
first, it sounded like someone was walking on the stairs, but usually you can hear them go all the
way down or all the way up. each step has it’s own unique cheap suburban creak. but i only
heard a few creaks, like someone took a few steps and stopped. a little while later i thought i
heard someone going into the bathroom. but usually you can hear the door click shut, you can
hear the wood scraping against the purple rug as it opens and closes. all i could hear was the
knob moving, like someone put a hand on it but decided not to use it.

my sister thought someone was breaking in. i went downstairs but there was no one there, all the
doors were still locked. i even checked my mom’s bedroom to make sure no one was in there.
the next morning my aunt told me she had gone downstairs to let the dog out, but she hadn’t used
the bathroom. so why did the knob turn?

last night i dreamt about a ghost. i don’t remember it all, but i remember i talked to her in my
refrigerator. i opened the door and i could hear her inside. she was murdered, and she told me
how she died. the truth was in the clay, a bit of clay and sand in a plastic bag tacked to a bulletin
board. i ran downstairs to tell everyone about the ghost. i knew that if i was write about the clay,
then that proved i had talked to her- that i had the truth. right as i was opening the bag, i woke
up. and i knew i was waking up as it happened. it was almost as if i had a choice- that there was
this moment where i was in dream limbo, stuck between consciousness and sleep. my eyes were
closed and i was still in my dream, but i was aware that it was a dream, and i could open my eyes
and break out, or i could try to push deeper into my sleep in search of the truth. i woke up.

perhaps i’m being haunted. i’m crying more than usual. i’ve thought of my father more in the
past few days than i have my entire life, or at least that’s what it feels like. i don’t know why.
this time has no significance to him, not that i know of anyway.
i always write at three am. sometimes when i get the urge to write in the middle of the night i
look at the clock and it always seems to be three am. i don’t know what that means. lately i find
myself awake at three am almost every night and sometimes it’s the happiest time of the day
because its not weird that im home in my room doing nothing and everyone is asleep and the
house is quiet. i once heard someone say that the veil between this world and the next is
thinnest at three am. i think about that a lot.
15.

i have work to do i have shit to write

i have stories to read and stories to tell
but i can’t get out of bed today

lately i feel like i live in a fantasy more than reality

am i getting to far from my life
has it been stolen from me for too long?

i had a dream i was traveling

and it seemed like a cruel joke
i watch artificial people live artificial lives
i wonder if i am artificial too

16.

sometimes i like to lay in the bath

with my ears under the water
i cant hear anything but the deep
sounds of the water moving through the tub
the voices fade and i am surrounded by nothing
i float in quiet

i’m hiding today

and i don’t wish to be sought
today i prefer to live incognito

i solve clues in someone else’s mystery

i’m tired of having my own
it’s so draining and
i’m so tired
i feel like i’m living a different life

the silence is consuming

you don’t think about sound until you have none
now i wish for even a trickle
even a shriek
imagine my surprise when now all i want to do
is run