Throw open my closet doors and don my best business attire,
I am fueled by coffee and motivation to succeed.
The youngest of my colleagues, I have excelled in the pursuit of the american dreams.
I am supermom.
I am superwoman.
Hear me roar.

The fall came on without warning.
This mental prison confined me and I could not escape.
Spiraling down, down, down until…
CRASH.
I am no more.

The alarm blares and I hit snooze for the umpteenth time.
I roll out of bed, slither into day old sweats and smooth my hair with a greasy hand.
Did I feed my child today?
Who cares anyway?
I am the middle-aged teenager, tromping around town in pajamas.
Bad decisions, yeah, I’ve made a few.
But who are you to judge anyway?

1/6/2016