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I hope you feel pretty today

A temptress: a swamp bitch

The subtle dialogue in my head nudges at the tendencies that I dare not give into.

“Hey I’m going to need you to open the store tomorrow. I won’t be able to.”

I won’t be able to open tomorrow because I have plans. Plans to bleed out in my bath tub. Plans to lasso myself with an old leash over the balcony. Plans to glue boulders to my feet and hurl myself into Lake Houston. You know? Whatever the hell gets me to quit breathing.

But I’ll keep the details quiet. She’ll probably be annoyed that I asked her to open on her day off. Especially so late at night. Don’t worry it’ll never happen again. That I can promise.

Because I cannot stand another day as just another participant in this dog and pony show. Corporate puppets judge me based off numbers with no evidence. Suicidial thoughts ricochet in my mind meanwhile I am letting myself get verbally abused over $1.30 refund. I retreat to my brain. I fantasize about slicing my wrist open right infront of her. Can you imagine the satisfaction of watching someone whose never experienced a single, sincere, genuine moment in their life react to something like that? My fingers itch the side of my leg. For a single moment I pray that I carry out the impulse.

But then I remember I have a mother. I have a little brother, an older sister and nieces and nephews and I know cannot fulfill my impulses. My eyes bead up with tears.