I wake up at 8am. I let the sun burn through the blinds.
I roll over. My husband is next to me.
I shut off my alarm. I crawl back in bed. I scroll.
My stomach growls. I think about breakfast. Pancakes. Oatmeal. A smoothie.
I fall back asleep. Now, I don’t have time for a smoothie.
I wash my face. I brush my teeth. I wear sweatpants, my hair on top of my head.
I turn on the kettle. I steep the tea. Honey. Milk. Stir.
I draw. Write. Breathe. Scroll.
It’s 11 o’clock.
I run errands because it’s a Tuesday. I check my phone
I do laundry because it’s a Thursday. I check my phone.
I put everything away.
I greet my friends. I make them dinner. Eat. Laugh. Scroll.
Shock. I used to work 27 hours a week. Now, I’m only needed for 14. This can only be bad. There is no good here.
We won’t have enough.
I’m not necessary.
I’ll miss them.
I must hide it. Cry in the bathroom.
I am in control.
I am in control.
I sit back down at the table. I laugh. I check my phone.
I close the door behind them.
I say, “That was fun.”
I check my phone.
I shower. I burn my back. I get used to it.
I wash my face. I brush my teeth. I wear sweatpants, my hair on top of my head.
I set my alarm for 8am.
I crawl back into bed. I scroll.
I roll over. My husband is next to me.
I fall back asleep.
I am in control.