red print

-looks down and sighs- -she can feel a bitter mix of disappointment and discontent bubble inside as the red fluid imprints itself on the paper she was holding- –paranoid, her heart races as she looks around, she could’ve sworn someone called her name- – but no, one more time she was being mindfucked without her consent- – the office was empty, and the door closed- -now she’s trying and failing to hold back the tears– -she wants to take a ‘breathing for 5 minutes break_as other times when anxiety attacks, or depression drags, or hypomania hits her more than she thinks she can handle-_but she can’t, she’s working alone and the phone is ringing past 3 rings-_fuck i can get fired for this, she deludes as she answers in a seemingly welcoming tone: Good evening, Thank you for calling _________ Hotel, where may I direct you call?

she hangs up- and there it was, her bloodprint– staring, accusing, mocking. she didn’t want to look but she needs to inevitably. the violated nail had been forced off so low that she had bled on the paper, and now her cuticle was painted red, it even hurt for real_time is held by inertia as her eyes let go the water current they had been trickling into slow controlled tears_she had promised! she had promised! she had promised to herself as a frequently suicidal child/teen that she wouldn’t ever bite her nails to the point of bleeding again-she had mostly succeeded, her nail biting was limited to a specific ‘threshold‘ and there were times were she stopped doing it- but she has worsened, and you can see that in the unspoken story behind her nails and peeling skin. her ‘threshold‘ had lowered, but she had kept her promise

but now, seeing her poured blood, in tears, she can’t have that little tiny shred of hope that she hasn’t lost control. she feels disgusted, as the germs lay there laughing and contaminating her while she couldn’t wash her hands! (door opens) the phone is ringing frantically but now stops -she further turns to her corner cubicle- discreetly dries her tears with her folded hidden tissue_when her supervisor calls her name she turns to hear the dreaded question: Are you ok? Sure, I just had allergy all of a sudden, she says. Then, she was able to take her tiny break, which consisted of 3 mins. crying, and the other 2, finding ways to camouflage the red on her face.

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