She's bored with the way things have been
going in her life lately. Work is a repetition
that has dulled her mind. When she is home
she tries to be the mother she thinks her
daughter needs. She's not sure who that is
but she is trying to figure it out. Her little
girl is going to be a beautiful woman one
day, she is sure of it.
She doesn't care to stay in touch with her
ex-husband, though they do see each other
for as much as they have to when they
pick up or drop off their girl. She drinks
too much but she doesn't know it yet. It
is going to be fine until the day when it
isn't, until she wakes up with vomit in the
sheets and caked in her hair and her daughter
is about to return from a sleepover.
She masturbates to the idea of a man who
is loving, who wants to love her, to be with
her. She doesn't think it is much to ask of
this world but she doesn't know any better.
She is fine going out to bars by herself,
getting drunk, talking to men in smoke
filled rooms, listening to their boring stories
of what bullshit happened at work and the
reason they're drinking at that moment.
They never run out of excuses for drinking,
for drinking more, for driving home, for
trying to shut off the nagging voice that
has no off switch.
She is bored. She lets herself be bored by life.
It could all be better some day. She tells
herself that every day. When will that day be?
She doesn't know yet but she hopes to know
soon, the days are passing much too quickly
now and time is in a hurry.
