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Let It Out

Imogene Scott

I’m barely able to keep my thoughts together as I drive back home. My grip around the steering wheel tightens and I try to catch my breath. The enormity of what just happened slowly filters into my brain.

I’m a joke. To everyone. No matter how hard I’ve worked over the years, I’m a still a joke. To Rita, to Diane, to Damien. They all toyed with me, made me feel like a fool.

As I pull up in the parking lot, my hand slowly slides off the wheel. I have never felt like this in a long time. Worthless, alone and broken. I try to move from my seat, but my legs feel unsteady. My tears have dried on my cheeks, and my throat feels sore.

The realization of everything that happened.. it leaves a residual numbness in my body. Every inch of me broken, patched back up with Band-Aids—Band- Aids over open wounds.

Temporary.

Futile.

Useless.

I fight back the lump blocking my throat. I hold the numbness inside me at bay. The hopelessness presses against my shoulders, threatening to push
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