That time of the month

When you wage a war against yourself there's always a winner, and the winner is time. Time is what goads us on, not to success, but to continue waging wars. Against ourselves, against our friends, against our parents, against the stupid man on the street that hits on you every time you walk by. Time tick, tick ticks away, pushing us to our breaking point and then keeps ticking, urging us to live on and view the ticks like some sickening time bomb we know is going off. You fight tooth and nail for the things you love, your fangs bared, claws out, hair on end. You'll do absolutely anything, cut, scrape, scream, bleed, die. But you see the funny thing is that time just grins back and trundles along, a chubby toddler with fat legs and a dimply smile, cute as can be, but oh what a goddamn menace if he gets his hands on the crayons and those clean, beautifully white walls. "Is it that time of the month?" he pleasantly asks (what you can talk?!) ... no you psycho mini-man, why must we always be deemed such hormonal creatures, can't I just be pissed? You're panting with exhaustion, at your wits end, there really is no other way out, but this chubby kid keeps smiling pleasantly and tells you to calm down and breath and insists that you "take care of yourself" what does that even mean? How can you care for a broken soul? Broken, in pieces, fragmented, why even bother arranging these shards of glass together when a cracked mirror is useless. But you do, you scrape up the glittering pieces and painstakingly try to figure out where each part goes, oh this one looks like Florida, this one looks like the mole on my right rib. So many moles. So many states. Where do they all belong? Do you use glue? It's so messy, your fingers are cut up, your contacts are drying out, helpless, clueless, futile. Someone comes by and brushes your hair back, soothingly leads you to bed, you would know that hand anywhere, gives you a cold glass of water (is it poison?), you sip thirstily and know that everything's going to be all right (Alicia Keys). But what if it isn't?