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God! My head hurts

There is no pounding

Just the ache of melancholy

That thrives best when there is so much

To be aghast about

I posted a rambling piece not long ago in a drunken cave where I could see how shitty it was

Created by life’s glorious mess

Hunkered down and sweaty with bitterness and pride

I coerced my soul to recall how just an hour before

My sunglasses magically disappeared from my bag

After leaving the gym where my body writhed with abandon as I pounded on the treadmill

Fuck me!

Why does it always have to be like this?

Into the day without the sun is never dark enough to conceal my alien disposition

My sunglasses didn’t greet my hungry fingers as I besieged my bag with fury

God! You are a motherfucker!!!

The one thing that I relied on is no longer alive

I need to die.

I’m a crazy bitch with sporadic periods, hormonal epilepsy, no career, victim of Eve’s fuck up, direly irrational, hooked on despair and mad as hell that she can’t find her sunglasses.

I walk in cryptic surrender as I dial the Suicide Prevention Line, maybe they can convince me to stay

They didn’t

I was angrier, haughtier and more determined than ever to find my sunglasses as I pirouetted along passers by and motorists — in search of my senses

Never found them

In the managed containment of insular confinement

I brutally menaced a bottle of vodka and imagined how my departure from this gorgeous world would impact anyone

I erected a concert in my honor where artists would congregate to sing my favorite songs

The money raised would be used to develop programs for middle-aged writers who need to be taught how to secure their second wind

Then, Radiohead. That song.

Lucky echoes in my ears as I nurse how quickly I’ve plunged into a mind-altering vestibule

Suddenly I am quenching my sorrows and fading attack with the hymn that used to give me cause for renewal

It’s blasting in my ear and I am slowly succumbing to the darkness of visions and nightmares

The morning

My head is too heavy to hold and my stomach feels like it was subbed for a boxing ring

I hate vodka but I love Radiohead

And I’m psyched that I don’t care if things get better because in my dreams

I am Lucky.

Written by

Juggling Wordsmith. I have a lot to say! https://medium.com/membership https://www.patreon.com/Ezziegirl

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