I’m bleeding.

sullied thighs, teary-eyed, ravenous.

My man is sympathetic. 

Buys me wine, ice-cream, weed. 

Makes love to me and doesn’t mind when I stain the bed.

It’s a good life.

Another day at the office, and today they are trying to appeal to our hunger and depression by having a corn-dog truck come during lunch. We need a ticket because we are numbers. We are hungry office monkeys waiting for Friday to get paid. We watch our bank accounts like voyeurs and hope that the $11.34 in our accounts will hold us over till the weekend. We eat every single thing in our pantries and refrigerators and go to bed hungry cause it’s easier than going to the store and looking at food you can’t buy.

But you buy the wine and the cigarettes because life was meant to be lived in the best way possible. 

I get the soy dog because meat sits like an enemy on my guts. But something is different this year. The corn-dog truck is getting lazy. They just don’t taste the same as they did last year. Maybe parts of my tongue have died. 

Our meet-and-greet lunch is as awkward and uncomfortable as it sounds. I’m bleeding heavy now, and I can feel it seeping through my clothes but I doubt I’ll stain those pretty white corporate chairs. A shame really, they’re just as depressed as all of us and deserve a good story to tell. But I play the part because acting comes easy. I nod and take a bite of my corndog. I smile and take another bite. 

Back at my desk, I watch my horoscope on YouTube because the last couple of months have been interesting. They predicted the towering down of my relationship, the rising up of another. They told me that my “twin flame” was close, and that I had paid my dues so I was ready.

They reminded me that Saturn was about to leave after sharing close space with me for almost 3 years. As silly as it sounds, I felt the release. I am now left to fend for myself. 

I return to work.

Real work, and remind myself that it is indeed Friday and the weekend awaits. But as I sit there, sipping on semi-expensive Parisian tea, I remember that Monday is only two days away, and the weekend doesn’t sound as good after all. 

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