I’m living in a moment of holding my breath and keeping my tears in my body before I leave for work only to waste them on a bruised knee after I whack it into a table. It’s the kind of year you tell yourself next month will be better and then it’s worse and it’s so bad it’s almost funny. Like the universe is stuck on April 1st and your life will stop being one big freaking joke when the day is finally over. The kind of year you wish you were in Ninth grade, nobody wishes they were in the Ninth grade. I miss permission slips. Somehow everyone and there mother knows this is the worst year for you so they choose that moment to tell you they’re surprised your not done with school yet, that ten extra pounds doesn’t look that bad on you, or that your flat tire is too damaged to repair, not to mention the tweezers you find with a note that says “from mom” because she thinks the lack of grooming was simply misplaced tweezers.