I once had a job where I was quite literally sick to my stomach every single day. At least for the first four or five months. At some point it stopped. Why I stayed, I’ll never figure out.
Every once in a while I go through a day, or two, when I become familiar with that feeling once again. I think this is what dread feels like too. Or maybe I’m just confusing the two.
Today I really want a glass of wine, and I don’t actually drink. I’m craving a cigarette, which I haven’t had since high school. I wish I had the kind of personality that let me take pain pills to make me fuzzy.
I’m too clearheaded right now. I am sick to my stomach.
Today is a Voodoo doll day. There isn’t a drink or a pill or a thing that’s going to make it better.
In my next life “sick to my stomach” days will not exist. I just haven’t figured out how to make that happen.
NOTE: this was written a few months ago and post-published,
for my sanity and to preserve the anonymity of those involved.
But if this applied to you, you know who you are.