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I’m the gallon of milk in your fridge you have not touched since week 1

Written by: Melina Cruz

By Milky Boy
Curdling with Rage

This cold, desolate land has been all I’ve known. When I was chosen by you, I thought I had a chance at a rich, adventurous life. I strive to fill a bowl of cereal, to embrace an Oreo, to be drunken by a hungover frat fellow at 3 in the morning. And yet, I am here, alone on your shelf, nestled in between your two-week old chow-mein leftovers and a jar of alfredo sauce you convinced yourself you’d use more than once. 

I scream, for I am not heard. I’ve begun to develop my own ecosystem; the irony is not lost, in that I begin to develop a thriving environment, as the world around me remains cold and indifferent. I have no purpose. I only exist; I only stand and wait and ponder over the world’s questions. Have you developed lactose intolerance? Was it something I did? I promise I can fix it, for there are cures to your ailment, and yet I cannot be sure you care to try. I am but a blip on your radar, a space in your fridge, but you were my world and you have shut me out.

I could’ve been a decadent block of cheese. I could’ve been a distinguished container of Greek yogurt. I could’ve even been a radiant block of butter, to further increase cholesterol levels of the human population.  I was not even a secondary ingredient to a wondrous cake or even a drop in your beloved coffee. And yet, my milk has gone to waste, with no one to consume and no one to appreciate.

I know you exist. You open the door of the universe, and loom in the entrance of the unknown, and you peer at the contents and yet never see me. Was I ever truly seen? Was I ever acknowledged? I’ve been opened once, and it was the most joyous moment of my life, my most coveted and precious memory that only exists within my mind. We could’ve built a life together; I would’ve served you well until the very last drop, in which we would end our journey with my ceremonious fall into a recycling bin. And yet, I will never experience this.

Once I am discovered, you will recoil with disgust. You will look at me with hate in your eyes, and I will be thrown into the garbage where I do not belong. And I will weep.

Oh, but you’ve arrived! I cannot let this fate be cast onto me, the time in this chilled cell has thickened my skin. I am not as malleable as I was when you first used me. No longer can I be cast against the wall of my container as you backwash back into the gallon. I’ve grown a culture, and I am strong. Fear my wrathful stench, stand aghast at my pungency, for it is my revenge– w-wait, what are you doing? No, put me down, no not in the trash! You monster! Stand watch for your own cruel fate, for it will arrive one day! One day! Agh!

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