Vinicius asked me why people always looked at us on the street and I asked him if they did. I started looking at people and I didn’t notice them looking but I also didn’t believe they didn’t.
I looked at my bank account and I was $7500 in debt. I cried a lot. I called my mum and she told me to stop buying stuff on ebay and stop ordering Uber Eats (And you’re going to binge, at least eat get the cheap ice-cream not the bloody Connoisseur stuff!)
I bought a brown pleated skirt for $31 that didn’t fit and that I hoped would fit soon.
I bought a blue denim crop top with flared sleeves for $50. It fit me but to look good it needed to be worn with tight jeans or a pencil skirt and tight jeans and pencils skirts did not look good on me.
I bought a baggy black and white striped top by a designer I liked a lot. I didn’t like the t-shirt much but it was only $7.
I bought a really good Proenza Schouler black and white jacket that was $40 and it used to be $1800 and it looked good. Whenever I would wear it people would say ‘you look nice’ or ‘you look fancy’ and I wanted to look nice and fancy but I didn’t like it when people said I did so I haven’t worn it that much.
Vinicius got sad because his brother asked to borrow money and Vinicius didn’t have any money. He cried and I told him I loved him, even though I didn’t (then). I didn’t know what else to say. He kept crying and he didn’t tell me that he loved me (even though he did).
I went to see Mother at a cinema on King Street with a girl after our uni class. I was excited because the film looked good and I hadn’t made any uni friends yet. The girl was studying post-colonial literature and she always got much better marks than I did for her assignments. She said, ‘I always see black guys with slim white girlfriends here’. I said, ‘Okay?’. I wished I hadn’t gone to the film – I didn’t understand a thing and I still hadn’t made any uni friends.
I decided to cut out sugar but then I really wanted an ice-cream.
My writing was published for the first time in Sydney in a journal I liked and I imagined eventually being very famous (but not necessarily rich) for my writing and I imagined people who had hurt me really regretting that they had hurt me. I imagined having lots more very interesting friends. But then I imagined too much and I got stressed out that the interesting friends would start to find me boring. I also couldn’t really imagine that the people who had hurt me would actually care at all or recognise me (because I would be slim by then). But that bit where I imagined, but didn’t imagine too much was quite nice. It gave me something to do on my bus trips to work.
Vinicius and I went out to dinner on Enmore Road and I wore my second-hand fur coat. We were waiting to cross Wilford Street when I felt someone stroke the back of my coat and slur ‘sexy’. I told the someone to fuck off and he did because he was already doing that before I asked him to. Vinicius said he had wanted to say something but he didn’t want to start a fight because it felt like he wasn’t supposed to be on this street in this country. If he didn’t feel like he was supposed to be on that street, he definitely wouldn’t have felt like he was supposed to start a fight on it.
I had to repeat a sentence three times for Vinicius because he didn’t understand one of the words. I repeated it the last time in a louder voice and an angrier tone and I shouldn’t have so I’m writing this entry in a regretful tone.
I watched the Bachelor with Vinicius in bed. A contestant said ‘You make me the best version of myself’ to the Bachelor. I said to Vinicius he didn’t make me the best version of myself, he just gave me ice-cream. He said I was the best version of myself when I was eating ice-cream. I said that that was gross and made a fist in front of my mouth to hide my smile.
I read an essay by Freud about how some people got ‘wrecked’ when they got something ‘too good to be true’. It didn’t tell me how not to be one of those people though. Or maybe it did – it was hard to read.
Vinicius, Josh and I went out for beers at the Webster Hotel. I talked about not knowing what to do when someone did something like that guy had when he stroked my second-hand rabbit fur jacket and called me sexy. Josh said it wasn’t up to me to say something, that Vinicius should have and I said, ‘I don’t know’ even though Josh hadn’t asked me a question. Vinicius went to buy a round for everyone and we drank until the pub closed at one. At one, a guy said something to Vinicius about Vinicius and his slim white girlfriend and then they fought. They ended up in the middle of the road on King Street.
Vinicius apologised to me. I told him it really didn’t matter and it was fine, but it did matter and it wasn’t fine. He was supposed to be in the street, not fighting to stop himself being pushed off it.
Student numbers went down and I lost two shifts a week so I had to take up another job where they needed me to do five shifts a week, but I couldn’t quit my other job because they didn’t know how long they would need me to do five shifts a week so I did eight shifts a week and I was tired all the time. I also spent more money on Uber Eats. And the bloody Connoisseur stuff.
It got cold in Sydney so I got out my second-hand rabbit fur jacket to wear to work. It had somehow got a big hole in the back though so I put it away again and found a different jacket – it didn’t make me as warm as I wanted to be.
Jessie Perrin is a writer currently based in Sydney. Her work has been heard on FBi Radio and has appeared in publications including Scum Magazine, Ibis House, Lor Journal and Voiceworks.