Writing’s On the Wall


Sitting in my car at the Mesquite library, crying into my Schlotzky’s and Starbucks, which I’d gotten because the tiny break room was full of people and the only way I could survive that job was having an hour alone for lunch. Knowing I’d have to go back in to work soon. It was raining.

There was a period of several days during which I listened to nothing but this song on repeat. It has that perfect, aggressively melancholy sound/feel that my soul just seems to need sometimes . . . Like when I’m being crushed by a job that is the opposite of everything I need to function.

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