The Circus

It's unbearable, really, when the circus comes to town in my brain. It's a semi-regular schedule but sometimes it doesn't show. It's rare, but it happens. The posters go up and I prepare for the inevitable, but the week goes by and there's no circus. The show is something I've memorized yet it's torture each and every time and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I can only fight as hard as I can. The taunting clown is the very worst of it.

For my first act, an extensive list of why you're a horrible person who deserves to die. | Not very original, but you never were.

Everyone hates you and will leave you. | That's overly simplistic.

But what about that thing they said? It's a sign! | No, it's not.

It is! Keep thinking about it! Keeeeeep thinking about iiiiit... | *yawn*

You're still thinking about it, aren't you? | Can we move on?

It's only a matter of time before they get bored with you. | That's not a fair assumption about them.

Or they'll see what a trash person you are and leave. Everybody leaves eventually. Think about everyone who's left. | This is really getting boring.

But you're still thinking about what they said. | You know, I could just talk to them and ask for clarification.

Ha! Yeah, that definitely won't make things worse. Besides, you already did and that didn't help, did it? | ... no.

Now watch me go! Have you considered that you might be awful at everything you do and people might just be really nice because they don't want to feel bad when you die? | Well, now I do.

You're still thinking about what they said, aren't you? | *sigh* | Good. Balloon animal? It's in the shape of a sword, which is a tool you could use to kill yourself now that I think about it. Right?

A co-worker pops their head in to say goodbye to me on my final week here and asks how it's going. I conjure up a convincing smile easier than nearly anything I do and say, "Pretty good!"