i'm gonna die.

Thursday, March 28, 2013

I think it should be perfectly acceptable to e-mail your bosses before work starts at 7:00 AM and explain that you’re going to miss work because you’re afraid of everything. Everything on a tangible level (murder, rape, falling rocks, brain aneurysm, aortic aneurysms and, oh god, could you get an areola aneurysm? Could that happen? Here lies Karin, passed away unexpectedly due to a burst artery in her right breast. How gross. Taylor Swift would never die that way. I’m probably going to die that way. I’m just going to die in the least attractive way possible and then my death won’t even make the papers.) and a visceral level (life is meaningless, I’m going to die one day and that will be it, someday all of this will be gone).

I’m going to work, of course. Not because I want to, but because my bosses are doctors and I do not have a backup person for my position. All I know is that I had 16 minutes to get dressed, do my hair and my make-up, but now I only have 10 minutes because I had to write a stupid fucking blog entry about how I’m really bad at being a human being and also I worry about aneurysms happening in places that wouldn’t happen to Taylor Swift.