First Post

I have a nametag. The little square kind, bright red, and it says "SUE" in a font that looks like a third-grader wrote it. I'm not allowed to use my last name on my nametag. I would have; people ask less questions that way, and I hate questions. Especially the kind people ask when they are actually interested. Those are the worst. I don't mind the perfunctory questions that people ask when they don't want an answer. The ones I hate are the ones people ask when they are trying to figure me out or be a part of my life. I mean, some fat old lady with too much lipstick is getting her ticket stamped, and she looks at my name tag, and her eyes light up like some piece of gossip about someone she's never met is going to change her life. "You have such an unusual name." She says, all slippery, like I'm obligated to answer. When I don't, she isn't discouraged. "Where is it from?" She presses, as her purfume slinks into the booth. What the fuck am I supposed to say? "Mom died, well you know, and I never met her. Dad, of course, was drunk. He thought that it would be great fun to name me after that dumb Johnny Cash song. Don't get me wrong, I like Johnny Cash. It's just that song that's monumentally stupid. Yeah, there's a way to change your name, but it's my NAME. Otherwise it might as well just be some collection of syllables. Nothing." Am I supposed to say that? Fuck no. And the worst part? She actually wants to know. She actually cares; she wants to put her hands all over me and smother me with her caring. It makes me want to puke.