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Sep 2019
isn’t nine to five. There are no vacations
or sick leave time. The paychecks are
spotty and slim at best, unless you get
famous. And that hasn’t happened

as yet. It’s a lonely life when you
work alone. The bottle is company for
a little while. But it doesn’t make you happy. It
just subdues your worries for a couple

of hours. I wouldn’t recommend this
life to anyone. But I didn’t choose it. It chose
me incredulously. And yet I follow it blindly,
like an abusive lover. It hovers over me. But I

know in my heart I can have no other. So, I
adhere to it religiously. But there’s demons
in this. The blackness sits like a cloud of smoke
on my breast. People recoil when they find out –

treat me as if I’m a louse. And sometimes I think
that I am. But I still spring back to life again.
sandra wyllie
Written by
sandra wyllie  56/F
(56/F)   
92
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