Reaping time

Pretty sure the universe hates me…

Thistles and brambles come to mind as think on the past 30 days of my life; unexpected and unwelcome.

The badge of martyrdom on my chest as I go through the relationship gauntlet, ironically having to contend with both ends of the spectrum. Simultaneously, and reluctantly I play the role of the one letting go and being let go. I’m forced to sort through demons, skeletons, and ruptured fantasies – a ruthless learning curve at this stage of my life. While my heart is traversing through the blender, I am faced with the daily agony of a job that ruins me, and stirs a hate that burns in my eyes. I can imagine worse occupations than being an educator, but even they seem attractive in comparison to the demoralization and savagery in which I’m exposed to daily. I actually wish for death and then think, then they know they’ve won. So, I keep coming back each day to spite them and the system. I wish it were only love and money at the epicenter of my toiling, but alas the mischievous health card rears its ugly mug. It’s not sitting well with me, this idea of abnormality in the most private of places. No matter how stated, in passing, or in seemingly benign terms of pre- anything…cancer is never a word that can be quelled in an overactive mind.

Is this the proverbial “chickens coming home to roost”? Am I  just now culling the karma?


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