Fucking Friday

I’ve been a fucking mess all week. That word. It’s polarizing huh? Fuck. I’ve been using it an awful lot the last few weeks. I’ve said things like, “My fucking back hurts!” Or “What the actual fuck is this email supposed to mean?” Or the classic, “Fuuuuuuuuck!” as I slam my fists onto my desk and cry. I get it. Some people don’t like that word, but those aren’t my people. Sometimes you just have to say it. It adds emphasis. Character. Plus, words are only powerful if we give them power. Y’all are adults, you know this. But it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I just screamed it while sitting in my car in the LabCorp parking lot, upon realizing that I am one hour early for my appointment because what the actual fuck did that email mean?! And also, numbers. Gah. They always trip me up.

I’m at LabCorp an hour early this morning because I went to my doctor yesterday and she has some concerns about my back/joint/muscle pain, and I’m so today I’m giving the most blood I’ve ever given (and a urine sample) in hopes of ruling out some disorders and problems I don’t even want to say, lest I type them into existence. You know how I be.

So here I am. In pain—because I can’t take the pills I was given because you have to take them with food but I can’t eat because I have to fast—in some random LabCorp parking lot in Decatur, Georgia trying to finish my glass of water before I go in so I can actually go. For real.

Man, fuck this Friday. I’m over it.

Hope your day is better than mine.

M.

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