The Things I Always Think, Never Speak, and Would Love to Scream

I wake up and wonder what the day will bring,

if my clothes will fit the way I want, or hopelessly cling.

I look at the time: For a few more minutes, I'm free

till I step on the scale and it erases any and all glee.

As I apply makeup, curse at my acne, brush my teeth and hair,

I notice the cat fur littering the floor, the full hamper, the dust in the air.

No time to clean till the end of the day,

I'll clean after work. Will I be able to keep my tiredness at bay?

The car ride is long, but I enjoy the time alone,

as I listen to some favorite songs on my phone,

I wonder if my outfit looks all right,

the dress is unforgiving. Was it really worth that last bite?

I turned off the curling iron, right? I'd be stupid if not.

The house won't be engulfed in flames, the iron was no longer hot.

The garbage was taken out, the bed was made,

the dishes were washed... What am I, a maid?

Oh shut up, calm down, such a drama queen,

the house is tidy, it doesn't have to be spotless to be clean.

But still, I don't like it, it bothers me to no end,

plus what if we have company later, or a movie night with friends?

I know we won't, it's a work night, it'll be too late,

and besides, why would they bother? The long drive, they hate.

Work is as usual, I keep myself busy, typing away,

I love the distraction, the hours tick by quickly each day.

Then what? Drinks after work? A movie? The gym?

No, never the gym, I'll find a less humiliating way to get slim.

Eyes and mirrors everywhere, and my form is never right.

Nope, the gym does nothing but trigger my fight or flight.

Maybe pickleball or a walk in the park?

Yeah, a walk, then tidying up till dark.

The hunger is setting in, my fasting catching up again.

Don't give in. Don't go back to the way you were then.

A quick walk, then sit ups, and drink lots of water,

anything to further distract and stave off the hunger.

I'll paint some shells, write a short story on Vocal, make a wreath...

You're not even good. I clench my fists and grit my teeth.

I will be. If I keep picking up the brush, keep crafting, keep typing,

I will be good, maybe even great, enough childish griping!

Even if I'm not recognized, I'll have something to show for my trying,

and if I said trying didn't matter to me, I'd be lying.

There are people I care about, who encourage and support,

friends and family who inspire me each day, and life is too short.

Too short to doubt, to get hung up on the inconveniences and bullshit.

The noise is deafening at times, but overall, I'm happy. It's nice to admit it.