The Battlefield

It’s 7:03am morning and from my bunker I hear the faint battle cry of a pint sized soldier. The sun has not fully risen on this day to allow for the necessary optimism to seep into my heart. She is waging war of my wits, my nerves and my sanity.

My body shutters at the notion of spending another day on the front. I rise with dignity, well almost, I’m bra-less, hair muffled, and basically all around unkempt, but the General of this army no less. With each step closer to the enemy barracks I encounter obstacles I should come to expect. Pink plastic land mines, the casualties of my once clean home, the all around devastation from yesterdays fight. The stench of rotting excrement grows closer as I reach my opponent. She sings at the sound of my approach, I unconsciously clench my teeth. With Each step up the mountain to her kingdom, I hear Miley Cyrus telling me “it’s the climb”, and with a shake of my head I mutter, “fuck off”. I’ve made it, it’s just her and I. I muster up any remaining courage and dignity to turn the corner to face my foe. Our eyes meet, she beams with pride at the notion of my coming to her calls. I am defeated.

It’s 7:10am.  I’ve lost the battle. I’m winning the war.

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