Lip balm confessions

Each lip balm that I have stolen from the chemist is destined to end up in the washing machine. There is no other destiny for it apart from being lost to the lands under the passenger car seat. A stolen lip balm has no long-term future in my life, and our relationships are almost only ever one-night stands, since our meeting is always under the terms of dishonesty.

But even when I buy a lip balm, her presence is short due to karmic retribution from all the others that have been pocketed before her. Therefore, I must sit with my choices and their consequences. I was under the assumption that I was only returning balance to the universal bank.

Chemist Warehouse made $5.15 billion dollars in profit this last financial year, which — if you look it up — shows that that is 13% more than the previous year. Funny, don’t you think, considering we are going through an economic breakdown…

So surely my year’s half-dozen lip balms don’t even ripple the surface. And yet, the universe seems to keep tabs. Every one I pocket is cursed to disappear — as if the balm itself is rejecting me, aware of its stolen origins.

I have become both thief and victim in this quiet economy of consequence.