A Diary Entry: 10:15am
You moved where You keep
the empty grocery bags
You know the ones You save to stuff
garbage in the garbage
the ones from the trader joe’s we used to go to
You know, the one that used to make those snacks You liked
the ones I feel bad for forgetting the name of
but You moved them and they are gone and
I feel like a guest looking for something
to wrap my wrappers in
do You remember where you kept them?
in that old black something or other,
I never knew what it was made for just
what You decreed it,
maybe it was once a plunger holder
or a trash can itself but
I remember its shape and its
silver side that warped my face when
I would play in its reflection.
it was right there in the pantry under the
sweet shelf, remove that,
the up-too-high-to-reach shelf ,
reserved for tuesdays and thursdays.
but now it’s no everest
it’s no nothing worth climbing at all,
its wonderland turned cobwebs turned storage
do You remember when I tried to scale its walls
to reach the top I fell and split my lip and
You weren’t mad but You didn’t give me candy either.
my first addiction, my first secret.
when I was a kid I knew I would need to lie
I don’t know why I just knew that I knew
there was something something
I would have to hide
so I began to practice
I played pretend at being bad at it
purposely getting caught in clumsy sneaking.
I would let You think you knew my tells
but You didn’t know me at all
You don’t even know how to spell my name
but I was stuffing sweet tarts under my mattress
making false bottoms to my drawers
inside my room: treasure troves
so I would never have to climb everest again
and so I could have what I want
when I wanted it.
because, if nothing else
I am spoiled and I always have been and
I always get what I want when I want it
except for when I want an empty grocery bag
no, I can’t have that because You moved them
and there is nothing left to warp my face other than my frowning.
I wonder if I was born to be an addict or if
I just saw it coming,
I wonder if I knew there was going to be a secret or just made it so.
or maybe the hiding was never about the object of uppers
maybe it was about why I needed them.
maybe I knew I would need the
false bottoms for my binders,
to hide the faces I saved for select companies,
under my matters: lists of names and minoxidil,
scissors and KT tape
cus the on brand is sooo expensive,
underwear with socks sewn in,
drawings of boys I wish I looked like.
but this was not the sweetness, no
this hiding was bitter, more bitter than
the afterglow.
but I’m in the old room I boobytrapped, and I’ve gotten a new mattress and the lists of names are gone and the scissors are on my desk and the KT tape is under my sink now and I’ve given up on the whole minoxidil thing to be quite honest, but there’s remnants of the powder and a crushed ciggarette which I never felt because
I am no princess and this is no pea
and I went to find an extra grocery bag to
throw away these things
I forgot I was hiding
but you moved them and
I’m not sure this is my home anymore.
here,
there is nowhere for me to empty my emptying
because you moved where you kept the extra grocery bags and
I’m not sure this is my home anymore
and I’m not so sure this is a secret.
Lue “LIKETHEHIGHWAY” Khoury (born 2002) is a gender-fluid Palestinian-Greek American conceptual artist and writer whose work blends theory and memoir. Practicing what they describe as “identity alchemy,” LIKETHEHIGHWAY treats life as source material, investigating how bodily value, meaning, purpose, and worth are produced, and the pursuit of self-actualization and freedom. Through diary entries, essays, sculpture, installation, and performance, they offer themself as a case study. Their work has received international recognition, including features in Ada Søby’s forthcoming film The Blank Canvas, on iHeartRadio, and an invitation to present at Dread Scott’s All African Peoples Consulate during the 2024 Venice Biennale.