My Law of Three
3 a.m. My
internal clock decides I will start
whatever
day Hell has set forth for me,
irrespective of
how much little sleep I got
that night.
3 minutes I am granted
for myself, before being
assaulted
by the demands of every Tom,
Dick
and Sally who has ever learned
my
name.
3 miles Maximum
distance my body can run
on treadmill
before beginning to snap,
crackle, pop like
a bowl of drowning
Rice Krispies.
3 days Before
my “monthly friend” arrives. My
hormones
are already raving like drunken
teenagers. My back aches, my skin is
breaking
out.
3 hundred Emails greet me
when I turn on
my
computer. I begin answering the demands,
nonsense,
and general banalities they scream
at
me.
3 hours Into
my day and I am already spread so
thin
you can see right through me. I
re-initiate
dreaming
of elaborate ways to kill myself, escape, my
favorite
fantasy.
3 prominent Relationships
in 3 years, all variable breeds of loser,
all
periodically deciding to rear their ugly heads as
reminders
of my unwavering social stupidity, all
demand
attention they do not deserve, beg for additional
chances. Denied.
3 inches Of graying
roots stare back at me from my mirror,
illustrating how
I have neglected to take care of basic self-
maintenance,
wave like little flags
of potential
surrender. They must
dye immediately.
3 weeks Of work
disappears into cyberspace because
my computer is a
temperamental bitch
that decides at
random to shut down, goes on
strike. Again.
3 words That should
be banned from the English language:
Could you please . . . (the please,
optionally replaced
quite
frequently with now!) They ring
metronomic
reverberation from every corner of
my
world, from mouths I recognize, from some
I
don’t.
3 years I
have been working haphazardly on the novel
that might change
everything if I could just
scrape together
enough energy to
finish it.
3 lifetimes I live each day,
none of them mine. All are filled
with
to-do’s and don’ts and should-have-been’s.
I
juggle them like the dancing clown in this circus
I
have become.
3 pills Of the
sleeping variety is what it takes to shut
my
mind off, however temporarily, and still
I
lie with my eyes open, counting
shadow-sheep
until merciful blackness
swallows
me.
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