Pretend that they did actually die.
You are FUCKING kidding me right?
I was nervous about going back, getting back into the swing of things and remembering what the fuck I was doing, dealing with the sympathy looks, but never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would walk into the office to stone silence and sit there alone, in a room full of people averting their gaze, muttering to themselves or giving me a fucking DIRTY LOOK.
What the fuck?
Before, I was upset.
Before, it hurt so much.
I started making excuses for them in my head.
Now I am pissed. You are fucking KIDDING ME!
Pretend nothing happened. That works for me. Not completely ignore me like I don’t fucking exist.
Yes, I came home early. I couldn’t stand it any longer.
Yes, it is only a few people out of the many I spoke to today that either asked about my shoulder (they didn’t know) or were all WTF? (they did know) and I gave them the short version and assured them I was OK before riding their arses about things that should have been done weeks ago.
Cause I NEED to bring back the bitch.
But. Those people sit right near me. Those people do the same shit as me and the ones that I brainstorm with.
And they treated me like I didn’t exist.
Yes, I know that that may be the way they deal with the situation. The fact that less than a year ago we went to the funeral of a woman only 10 years older who died after a stroke at work. That I have been off work for 6 weeks and they have had to pick up the slack. I know, I know.
But I am a little fragile right now. I can’t deal with their issues on top of The Damn Emos extra emoness and MPS passive aggressive head wobbling and crying Aunties on the phone and Boo telling me that he is going to call the police to take me away for leaving him…
And fucking getting something in my fucking eye at fucking work is killing my fucking biatch on heels persona even quicker than the realisation that I am human.