I'm weary today. Moreso than usual. The copier was acting up and I got mad. One particular song on my playlist traveled a bit more than the others and David mentioned it, which is fine, but I just thought 'oh, something else'. I was given a stack of things to make 30 copies of each. My answer was 'oh good'. I typed up two letters. I opened the mail. Everything made me angry. It made me want to throw stuff. I wanted to throw the stuff to be copied against the wall. Throw my tea mug.

It looks like a music video in my head. All the lights flashing and my stuff flying around in slo-mo. My face contorted mid-scream, my cheeks wet with tears. An extra-slow shot of my mug hitting the wall, tea and bits of glass flying out artistically as more lights flash around and it starts to rain in the office. I become soaked through, you can see my bra through my shirt and I'm still throwing things. I spin around, grab a binder and start ripping stuff out of it. Then I rip the phone out of the wall and smash it. In a moment of brute strength I lift my monitor up and let it fly. It smashes dramatically in a rain of sparks and smoke on the floor, trying to burst into flame but it can't because it's raining. I sweep my arms across my desk shoving all the stuff on top of it onto the floor roughly. A cup with pens and pencils, a stapler (I believe you have my stapler), some books, tape, a stuffed dog, and various other bric a brac usually found on the sterile flat surfaces in offices.

Finally, after expending every last bit of energy I have, I overturn the desk. There's more rain, and lightening, and I collapse to the floor in a heap with my face in my hands heaving and crying and sobbing. The lightening slows, the rain gets harder, and it's over.

Phew. If only my bosses knew this pristine little office is ten minutes away from becoming a music video.

Fuck that would feel good.