Why am I at work?
Well, kids, because adults have all kinds of places they have to be when they don’t want to. (That’s something that know-it-all doesn’t know. Or maybe she does. Maybe she’s smarter than me because she called off for what I could only imagine is a bad case of the sniffles, but I’m sitting here and will probably have to cover her work today in some kind of cosmic irony that I just don’t have the humor for today. I’m certainly happy she’s not here, but I’m bitter that I am because of some damn work ethic that only I seem to possess.) But I also have class tonight and I can’t ditch it because I have a huge assignment that is due.
In all fairness to myself, I didn’t realize my situation until I was ready to leave the house. Besides, I’d only be sitting at home, so I may as well be here and be getting paid. Then again I would at least have a hot pad at home for these killer cramps that would make most grown men cry. (And they say a woman can’t be president—ha!)
I should know better. I feel like a little kid who keeps holding her hand to a flame or something because she just doesn’t learn. I keep thinking things will be different. I keep hoping and I just can’t stop doing that to myself. What a fucking idiot I am.
Of course, I know it could be worse. It could always be worse. And somehow I know this and will realize that it’s for the best. Somehow I will cope with my helplessness until next time.