and it was only monday

did you ever feel minor league self destructive? not jumping off a bridge ending it all, for crissakes, not major - but just wanting to scream or put your fist through the wall, break something, tear something up. say something cruel to someone who respects you. dip some skoal and swallow your spit, feel it burning on the way down. drive too fast in heavy traffic, in the rain, get all road rage on someone. don't show up where you're supposed to be, when you're supposed to be, just don't show up at all. run too far too fast and then run some more till you're beginning to feel sick and you're miles from home. chew off your fingernails till your fingers bleed. google an old boyfriend just to see if there's any scab left there that's not scarred over that you can pick off and pour the salt of reality in that wound one more time. start in on the wine before supper and hell who needs to eat anyway. throw away the goddam brown bananas because you just don't feel like baking another fucking loaf of fucking banana bread. leave the dishes, leave the unmade bed because you are just crazy out of your head being that good girl for another second, that one girl everyone can depend on and count on and that one who will remember and get it done and be there for you. did you ever get so goddam sick of being that girl?

yeah, me neither.