Monday Night

unlock the door to my overpriced apartment. step inside my sanctuary after too many hours of endless running. it’s time for me to relax. spent the day paper chasing. mind’s exhausted from endless racing. my body’s tired from office lights too bright and tasks with no end in sight. went from this to that, from shared documents to Pinterest boards of cats, from staring out the window to the screen in my lap. it’s finally time for me to relax.

loosely gaze at my face in the mirror. toothbrush hanging from my mouth and my hair in a bun. pick and squeeze at my tired skin. on this Monday night, it’s the closest i’ll get to fun. i need to go to bed. it’s time for me to relax.

but first

something more important...

i need to burn my retinas while i get sucked into this endless cycle of meaningless pictures and words and fake love and fake hate and fake mates and people publicly pushing to discriminate. fuck it’s getting so late

it’s one in the morning. i have to be there at six forty-five. and i have to get up at five-thirty but that’s not considering the drive. maybe i should shower before and put on some makeup so i actually look alive. yeah, i probably should, my hair is a disaster. the bags under my eyes are out of control. what should i wear tomorrow? probably’ll stick with that one pair of sweatpants that i stole.

fuck i can’t sleep

it’s time for me to relax

*phone buzzes*

why didn’t i turn this bitch off or at least put it on airplane mode? i check my iPhone with the rose gold tint. the light so bright it nearly blinds me and makes me do that classic tired-eyes squint. it never is, but i still pray this’ll be worth checking. i know it’s not an emergency because this fool is up late-night texting.

“come over girl, i’m lonely and i miss you”

roll my eyes and a statement so far from true. i wonder how many people he sent this message to.

i pause and get to thinking...

i’m under covers, above the screen my fingers hover, how do you respond to your part-time asshole lover? should i go over? should i get up and sleep in his bed instead of mine? it’s kinda sweet that he said he missed me. and i remember i loved it when he last kissed me.

hold on..



what the fuck am i doing? i need to go to bed. and it’s a weekday. love is just a lame game he likes to play. in bed, he acts like he slays. i’m frozen and don’t know what to text back and say. because i think it would break his ego if i admitted the sex was just okay. maybe it could be fun? maybe i could love him. wait do i love him or just love the feeling? what the hell is love even? i feel like people think they know but not really

there’s no way right?

they probably know but you’ll never ever feel anything like that


fuck love

damn it..

what am i going to wear for my cousins’ wedding next month? maybe the blue dress? no, too short i wouldn’t be able to dance. do i have to wear a dress? yes, idiot, you can’t wear pants. maybe the black one? what is this? a funeral? we’re celebrating life not dying. maybe i can buy the dress from the outlet mall i’ve been eyeing. but that’s like two hundred dollars but it’s also Tommy Hilfiger. okay two hundred dollars, that’s not too much. i could work an extra shift to make up for it. i haven’t seen half these people in years. it would be pretty dope to flex that fit.



should i start doing more cardio to lose weight? am i overweight? if i work out tomorrow and every day after i could lose weight. am i overweight? am i fat? am i? maybe i’m considered thick, that’s okay these days right? but i don’t have the curves to make it alright.


i am fat. fat means i’m ugly. why can’t i be pretty and thin and cute and petite? why can’t i keep my figure tight and tone and perfect and neat? why am i huge and boxy and heavy? why am i filled with fat and sludge and envy?

that’s okay there’s a way i can fix this. i just won’t eat. i’ll only drink protein shakes. i’ll cut out dairy and carbs and sugar and fat and anything that’s meat. i can do that. it shouldn’t be too hard.

but what if..




i need to relax and my head is feeling heavy

i hate myself it’s already two-thirty

how are my eyes tired but my head is wide awake. even though my eyes are shut i can feel the exhaustion tears start to fill up my eyelid lake. fuck, it stings. those voices were loud and now my ears ring.

i wish i knew how to relax

fuck it

it’s way past the time for me to relax

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