When Wednesdays roll around like they do, weekly, I am either happy or sad.
None of which I mind except for the fact that I can't always choose.
On some Wednesdays, I am submerged, soaked and coated in sadness.
It's drippy and it's trippy and it spreads like wildfire, scorching everything around me, bleaching the sky in sullen grey and white until I resemble a portrait without its bright paint.
I am tied, laid bare, voice stolen.
Like happiness was a pill I couldn't afford.
I fight sometimes, tugging, reaching for something, someone to hold onto till pill H comes back in store.
Sometimes it works long enough to reach Thursday and other times it doesn't because it is like a child with attachment issues, leeching on and grappling with me during attempts to leave.
Other days, all I am is blood, bones and body and I sink into it, allowing it to cloud my judgement, intensify all emotions and lash out inconsequentially.