blood from turnips

here it is. day 23 of 365. the first of (unfortunately) many days that i simply don’t want to see. (woe is pitiful me) i don’t want to show or talk or feel. this is the winter me. the realist. the facts and numbers on the spreadsheet that just don’t add up. i knew this day would come, but so soon? i didn’t think it’d be day 23.

somedays are just wrong. 

waking at 4am to the heat pump thumping in the vents like a broken heartbeat. ba-bump. ba-bump. ba-bump.

waking to the blood flow pumping migraine in my brain to match the rhythm.

waking to tight jaws and nightmares of transmissions falling out of cars, hitting heavy on the asphalt, leaving children stranded at school.

single motherhood is wrought with worry.

i curse the sun that burns my retinas today.  magnifying the migraine, the warmth makes me angry. the looming 70 degrees. where the fuck is winter? we came through 100+ days of 100+ temperatures. call me crazy, but i want some cold weather please. some sort of reprieve.

this is my city. 
this is where i am.

this is me shooting out the sunroof while crossing the river on my way to the car shop. i am mumbling @$!#% as i take this shot. eyeing gauges and levels (both mechanical and emotional)

watch out, i need someone to blame.
(and i’m a spitter)
fuck you, city.

i wonder how it will let me go. this city. the place i found best friends, motherhood, family, a career, a reliable car mechanic and a favorite hair stylist. these things all matter, when looking at the big picture. these things are the glue that hold me together.

apparently i am a petty bitch in this city.
i run on survival mode in this city.
i’m tired. and i’m ready to start living.

but this city, how will it let me go? with a flood, similiar to how it gave me life?

this city and i are not on speaking terms today. this is me in a weak moment. the weight of single parenthood causing an ulcer. this is me in a weak moment staring blankly at a $2500 new transmission. this is me squeezing blood from turnips.

today, it’s all the same.
it all stains red.

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