Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
It’s 9:58pm – two minutes before my deadline – and I’m still festering. My words are on the page and I should have pressed send hours earlier, but the ‘What Ifs’ have gathered like a swarm of bees: drones following their queen wildly searching for a new home. Our eyes lock and she comes straight for me, her advance guard landing on my skin with their tiny tarsi that test the waters. I can almost hear them sniff the air, their antennae assessing my temperature and humidity to see if I’ll make a good breeding ground.
What if it’s shit? What if it’s awesome? What if, oh please god no, it’s beige? What if it’s too _______, or too ______, and too ______? Or not enough _____ or _______ or _______? Fuck.
What if I’ve used the word fuck too many times for sheer novelty rather than translating all the different actual fucks swirling in my head? What if my mum reads this?
What if’s are much more inquisitive and persistent than the ‘What evers’, which flap past me like giant butterflies without a care in the world. I wish they would stick to my skin and build their nest in my marrow, pushing out the What Ifs with their zero fucks given attitude. These Zero Fucks creatures are much more solitary and I can only seem to catch them one at a time. And the worse part? I have to give them away.
Zero Fucks given to the people who sneer when I wear tight clothes with my muffins, muffin tops and trays full of sausage rolls with extra puffy puff pastry underneath. Zero Fucks given to the people who say ‘aren’t you brave, I could never do that (or be that or wear that)’. Zero Fucks given to the people who ask ‘Where would I have seen your work?’. Zero Fucks given to everyone who ever said ‘That’s why you’re not married (or don’t have kids, or have no partner)’ or ‘Why don’t you have a partner, kids or a marriage – what’s wrong with you?’. Now I know that this adds up to a lot more than zero fucks given, but you get my drift right? Mathematics can actually be quite creative.
Q: If 64 million Zero Fucks were on a train travelling at 80 miles per hour and Angela gave a Zero Fuck away to every person on the train, or every person that the train passed, or every person that she passed when she left her house for just five minutes each day, how many would be left?
A: There would be no Zero Fucks left to counter the infinite number of What Ifs inside her own head.
Where do Zero Fucks even come from? Are they the unicorns of the insect world? Do they grow in a garden? Oh shit, there goes another Zero Fucks, given to those who know I have no skills in keeping things alive even in imaginary gardens.
If I can’t grow Zero Fucks, then it occurs to me that I must make friends with What Ifs. I’ve always thought they were quite nasty and useless and prone to oozing puss. But bees make honey, we collect it, and it tastes awesome with peanut butter, and nobody dies right?
What if I write a sentence? What if I write a book? What if I’m honest? What if I love? What if I just am? What if I had six months to live? What if zero fucks were given? Wow, now even What Ifs and Zero Fucks are coming together and making friends.
Q: If Angela had six months to live and gave herself 64 million Zero Fucks, when she was not on a train travelling 80 miles an hour or giving Zero Fucks away to others, what would she be doing?
A: Angela would be baring her soul on the page (and loving and fucking everyone she wanted to, and who wanted to back) and generally saving lives with story.
It’s 9:59 and my finger, sticky now with peanut butter and honey, goes back to the send button without hesitation. 2016, I’ve decided, will be the year that I, along with new friends What Ifs and Zero Fucks, will fuck the shit out of everything.