I Would Escape This Body if I Could
I’ve spent my life trapped in a glass case of emotion
Dear Sir/Madam,
You do not know me, but as a proud member of the Lacertilia peoples, I have been stationed on the planet known as Earth for the past twenty-six years.
I am happy to report that the majority of my time here has been fairly pleasant. Unfortunately, over the past few years, I have experienced multiple snafu’s, which have placed both myself and the Lacertilia people at risk of exposure.
I know that officially, every standard-issue human suit is durable enough to withstand the duration of our stay on this planet. However unorthodox, I would like to request a refund. I believe mine is defective.
For your convenience, I have included my most recent error report. Inside you will find more detail about the nature of my troubles over the past few months, as well as the specific intergalactic regulatory codes for each.
Your obedient servant,
— J
ERROR: Unable to control skeletal structure
INC!DENT C0DE: 7777–444–8–3–666–9–66
I was probably a circus performer in another life. Perhaps I was a trapeze artist, given my propensity to climb, drape, and dangle myself off of pretty much any surface.
Kathisophobia is the fear of sitting down. I don’t fear sitting down, necessarily, but I have never met a chair that I liked.
Kitchen chairs are used as perching stools. More than once, my mother has found me with my butt perched on the chair back, feet firmly planted on the seat, bent over, and working on my laptop.
My parents bought me a special chair which allowed me to rest in a kneeling position. I perched on the top of that too.
While I was in school, over the course of studying, my torso found a way to stretch along the surface of school and library desks like a creeping vine until I was half draped across. However, I’ve always done my best work when spread out on my stomach on the floor.
I lie upside down on the lounge seat in my living room, TV trays are ottomans, and my coffee table is a really comfortable place to sit on and work.
RISK LEVEL: (M)ildly Irritating
To the best of our knowledge, the only acceptable form of limb-spreading is done by males and is colloquially known as man-spreading. While the subject’s actions are not enough to draw scrutiny, we recommend that this skinsuit be retrained on how to sit properly like a lady.
ERROR: Emotional regulator susceptible to extremes/regularly fritzes out
INC!DENT C0DE: 6-2–555–33–333-777–444–33–66-3–7777–44–444–7
I was friends with a guy in my college language class. He was two years older than me. Going to class was the highlight of my week. We bantered easily and could tease each other about anything. I considered us great friends. One day, after a heated debate about rent control, he invited me out to lunch and to watch Grease at his house. We got Indian food a couple blocks from his place. When we got back, he informed me that his TV was in his bedroom and the only place to sit was his bed.
I felt a little awkward about it, but I also didn’t want to be rude. I did as he asked. About halfway through the movie, he was trying to stick his hand down my pants. Unsure how to process what was happening, my mouth became the Sahara, my tongue limp, desiccated flesh. When it was clear he wasn’t going to stop, I made up an excuse and left, confused and upset.
My mouth is an airlock, a thin barrier between my tenuous reality and the endless void of space. The moment the seal is broken, everything inside my carefully constructed space is shunted into that black nothingness, the only sound I make a wailing scream.
RISK LEVEL: (U)nclear threat
While this incident was distressing for the subject at the time, it remains unclear how much of a risk the incident proves to Lacertilians. Amongst young females, such incidents are surprisingly common. Although increasing awareness and attention are being brought to the issue among Earthlings, due to the brief nature of the subject’s interaction, we do not believe it constitutes serious harm to the subject. Additionally, after interviewing the subject, it became apparent that she is unaware of how to classify her own experience. Overall, the incident has little to no likelihood of drawing unnecessary attention. However, the subject should be monitored for her response to future incidents.
INC!DENT C0DE: 555–666–88-3-6–666–88–8-44
My dad has a favorite watering hole that he frequents, where a steady stream of Woodford Reserve wets the Sahara of his mouth. The bartenders introduce me to everyone as my father’s daughter, but I am my own watering hole.
My teeth are a dam, my tongue the fleshy mechanism pushing the words forward in my mouth, so they spill down my lips in a raging waterfall of emotion.
People swell and ebb around the bar top in shifting tides around me. A man with a Marvel t-shirt prompts an explanation on why Superman is clearly the best superhero, including (but not limited to) references to the Justice League cartoon, Man of Steel, and the historical significance of the Death of Superman comic. The Marvel fan’s rebuttal is washed away by the chaotic river of my mouth. Bursting from my lips, the words patter against the bar top in a rhythmic thump.
Highlights from the National’s game play on the two TVs hanging above the bar. Somewhere between my fifth and sixth espresso, the general manager waddles out to me, paper in hand, sure that this will stop the babbling flow. It’s a printed article on the greatness of Mike Trout. Such a social faux pas obviously needs to be pointed out. Sports are a game of hearts and minds. Since 2012, really the only baseball player who’s dominated as such is Bryce Harper — from his emergence in 2012, to running into outfield walls, to winning the home run derby — thinking you can compete, well that’s a clown question bro. The dull hiss of my words disseminates through the space, hanging in the air like condensation.
The bartender asks if I have seen Star Wars VIII, and I spend hours justifying my dislike of the movie, and love of the prequels. The air is heavy with the humidity of my words.
RISK LEVEL: (A)bove average
The subject’s lack of filter and propensity to speak her mind may be considered abnormal by males of her species. Based on our extensive research into Earth’s etiquette guides — namely reality television shows and American films — it seems that the subject consistently acts outside of what male homo sapiens consider desirable. Furthermore, the subject’s forthrightness and loud opinions seem to be a source of tension with her assigned human mother.
Given the available information, we’ve determined the incident poses an above average risk to the Lacertilia as it’s plausible the subject will continue to draw attention to herself, perhaps eliciting further scrutiny.
INC!DENT C0DE: 333–2-8-44–33–777
There was a time when arguing was my family’s love language. I don’t remember where I was going. I just remember getting into an argument with my dad and wanting to take the car. I made it all the way to the door before he caught up with me, wrenching the keys out of my hand hard enough to sprain my wrist. He kicked me — slow enough to see it coming, soft enough not to do real damage — but I ran anyway.
The word tattoo comes from Polynesia, and historically, in most Polynesian cultures, the process of tattooing was considered an important ritual that signified entering into adulthood. I got my first tattoo when I was 18. I didn’t tell my parents. When my mother finally asked about it, I told her it was semi-permanent henna that would last six months. My second tattoo resulted in a screaming match in our kitchen. My mother belittled my decision-making, chastised my irresponsibility, and commented on my lowered ability to get a job. She told me that my conservative friend, G, wasn’t coming home with tattoos, her words puncturing me faster than the tattoo needle. I told her then maybe she would prefer adopting G as her daughter.
My mouth is an inkwell: ready, waiting.
Huddled on top of the air conditioning unit outside my dorm, I listened to my parents scream about my decision to quit the Michigan track team. They were incensed I didn’t tell them about it sooner and demanded that I don’t make the decision without them. I felt the words I wanted to say like a cancerous growth in my throat. Running no longer makes me happy. I just want you to be proud of me. Why aren’t I enough?
RISK LEVEL: (A)bove average
The subject’s ongoing conflict with her assigned parental figures has the potential to seek guidance from non-Lacertilian sanctioned individuals known as therapists. Doing so may be perceived as abnormal by the subject’s assigned parental figures, who are unaware of her Lacertilian nature.
ERROR: Faulty internal pressure stabilizer — requires release valve
INC!DENT C0DE: 444-3–33–66-8–444-8–999
Elizabeth Warren is not Native. She doesn’t get to claim that identity. Not when, as a mixed-race indigenous kid, I’ve had to fight to feel comfortable in my own skin. Not when, in high school, my friends repeatedly called my white-German friend ‘Pocahontas’ in front of me or told me that I was “so lucky” to be able to check Native American on college applications. Not after telling my white Uber driving that Louise Erdrich is one of my favorite authors, he claims he is actually Native American because one of his ancestors had relations with a squaw woman in the 1600’s. Not when guys on dating apps ask if I’m Hispanic, or the pizza delivery guy asks if I’m from the Philippines. Not when my parents had to elope, my grandmother remarking that my father looked “foreign”.
RISK LEVEL: (M)ildly Irritating
Such perceived “micro-aggressions” are fairly common amongst the homo sapiens species. The highest risk posed to Lacertilians is the unpredictable nature of the subject’s response. Given her skinsuit’s faulty emotional regulator, the subject has a propensity to react angrily to such an incident, which may exacerbate the situation by drawing more unnecessary attention.
However, we believe this problem can be easily rectified by fixing the skinsuit’s emotional regulator, thus allowing the subject a greater ability to control her emotions.
INC!DENT C0DE: 33-66–7-555–666–999–6-33–66-8
Go to school, get a job, buy a house, get married.
I saw The Adjustment Bureau when I was in high school. The movie’s premise is that everyone on Earth has a predetermined life plan, and all they have to do is follow it. If someone deviates from the plan, they’re given a slight nudge to push them back in the right direction. Doctors have this. Lawyers have this. Hell, even accountants are guaranteed some sort of plan laid out for them. Go to school, get a job, buy a house, get married.
The day I graduated from college, I dreamt I was hit by a train.
Post-grad life meant canvassing for minimum wage while begging people for money so I could stay employed, and two unpaid internships.
Logging onto Instagram tells me that five of my old sorority sisters are getting married, three are buying houses, and a friend from high school is married, owns a house, and is even crafting deck furniture!
I thought being at the tail end of the Millennial generation meant I was lucky — I missed the 2008 recession. Then, months before I finished grad school, a global pandemic hit.
Three months out of school, my younger brother landed a paid internship, which he turned into a full-time position. A year after graduating, he’s moved into an apartment with his longtime girlfriend. Finishschoolgetajobbuyahousegetmarried.Finishschoolgetajobbuyahousegetmarried.
I am standing at the bottom of a Penrose staircase.
RISK LEVEL: (E)xtremely Urgent
The beauty of the human race is in the simplicity of their life cycle. Human children have discrete periods of growth in their life: their birth and childhood where they are predictably dependent upon parental figures, a transitional phase where the bond between parent and child weaken, and finally, adulthood. It is well known that this linear pattern is one of the key reasons Earth was chosen as a suitable planet. The subject’s inability to conform to this predetermined plan is highly irregular. Furthermore, it significantly impedes the subject’s ability to carry out her directives and further the goals of the Lacertilia. The longer the issue is left unresolved, the greater the risk to the subject.
INC!DENT C0DE: 22–666–3-999–444–6-2-4–33
The word anthropology means the study of human biological and physiological characteristics and their evolution. It’s also the name of my mother’s favorite store. More than once, she has tried to badger me into letting her dress me up like her personal doll.
Baggy clothes are my armor. Like a caterpillar reluctant to leave its chrysalis, I hate the way my body swells and changes. Every mirror in my house belongs in a funhouse, regardless of what the scale says.
Too fat. Too bowlegged. Too much acne. Too pig faced. My hair is too curly. My head looks like a cantaloupe. If I lose 20 pounds, I will be worth something. If I lose 20 pounds, I will be happy.
I watch the sun set from my apartment window. You know you’re gonna do it, you fatty. I walk past other people on the street eating other meals, normal meals. The Rite-aid sign glows brightly under the cover of darkness. Pathetic.
The Rite-aid cashier’s eyes bore into my soul as I slide the bag of mini unwrapped Reese’s, pint of half-baked Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, and the family sized bag of cheddar and sour cream Ruffles across the counter. Of course, he’s judging you. This is the third time you’ve been in here this week. Look at what you’re buying! Disgusting. You should be ashamed of yourself.
Sometimes the internal pressure becomes too much, and my skin feels too tight. I crack my ankle open like a fortune cookie and pull, and pull, and pull the red cloth out until it pools on the floor around me, and the pressure subsides.
RISK FACTOR: (E)xtremely Urgent
Subject poses risk of harm to herself.
