Keep it together, girl.

That’s what I’ve had to repeat to myself over and over today. I keep running into reminders of…you know. Then I start to cry, and then I remember I am not a weak girl and I can get through this day. It all still hurts like a fresh wound. I sit in my car, like I am doing now, and  put my forehead against my steering wheel and close my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. Try and keep the panic away. I normally focus on the coolness between the wheel and my skin, but right now I can only focus on the brimstone volley of death cast from Satan himself that is going on inside of my mouth. Fuck. I just bit into a fresh jalapeño pepper. What the fuck. Why would someone serve cream cheese on a fresh jalapeño and not in a mild bell pepper!? Fuck the sanctity of orphanages everywhere. Congrats Fate, you pulled me away from lamenting about how much I miss that fucking goat lover, to lamenting about the sheer cataclysmic explosion between my taste buds and the capsaicin that is literally raping every single virgin space inside of my mouth.

I hope you are happy with yourself. I’m ready to die a thousand deaths to make this go away.