I Lost It

Call it PMS, call it stress, call it whatever it might possibly be. No excuses. No reasons. I simply lost it. I screamed, I yelled, I walked out of this stupid place, only to find myself squating in front of a cargo lift, yelling vulgarities at the top - not exactly, I can be louder, I know - of my voice. How much lower can those people get? How much lousier can this place get? How closer knitted can the rest of us get in relation to the meanness of this place? How more united can we get to escape the clutches of this mean place together? The white envelope in my drawer stares at me every single day. Screaming in silence, waiting to get out, dying to be seen. There in the drawer, it awaits. There in my drawer, lies my destiny.