One of those days where everything seems to be going wrong: "It's okay." "Breathe." All of that shit.
At times, days like today are almost funny. You get to a point where you are tempting the day: "One more thing and I swear to God I'm going to start screaming and crying and punching strangers in the face!"
But of course you won't.
And of course one more thing happens, just to see if you'll make good on your threat.
Another failure, of sorts.
Instead, I'll just be celebrating the Loser's Victory over here in the center of the city:
Looking hassled and slightly insane, hair askew and wearing an expression on my face that no one could read even if they tried. It's that expression of total stone that happens when three thousand tears are just under the surface. Not tears of depression or sadness, just tears of pure frustration and exhaustion of being harassed by some unseen force.
A pause while I smooth my hair, straighten my DUNCE cap, throw my shoulders back and just
keep
on
fucking
going.
be well; be loved,
k.
(title: Part of a song we used to sing on the playground growing up. If you ever want to hear me sing it, just ask. It's horrible and great.)
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