The bloodbath turned out to be worse than I thought, though I was never wholly concerned about it. A shard of glass got into a bar of soap, or possibly a towel, either of which I used as normal to wash or dry my body. Moments after stepping out of the shower I noticed I’d left small pools of blood on the floor, and there was blood all over my legs and feet.
I applied bandages, knowing it was futile. What I failed to observe until later in the day was that I slashed my balls with this little piece of glass. That makes sense because guess what, ladies, I wash and dry that region the same as anywhere else, and in this case the application of either soap or towel would have included a sharp little dagger.
Thinking of how the blood pools formed on the floor, and considering the quantity of those pools compared to how much I bled in other parts, I actually suspect I cut it down there worse than anywhere else. But I did not know at the time that those bigger lood pools had come from my balls. I did not become aware of the cuts to that area until mid-day, when the necessary act of defecation forced me to confront the unexpected dark red splotch in my underpants. My anal hygiene happens to be very thorough and good so I knew it was not shit or anything of that vintage. It was clearly blood, the stain located not in the sphincterial region where a shit stain would be but in the pouch portion of the garment where my balls rested. I can’t have bled too much, as the stain absorbed into the HANES and never reached my pants. That would have been hard to explain and harder to hide.
Fortunately my physical body heals quickly, and in this case I had popped a multivitamin and consumed a reasonably healthy breakfast of yogurt, egg salad, black bean salad, cheese, and a banana. I would likely have healed well anyway but that little flourish helped seal the deal, or so I like to tell myself. The cuts on my legs seemed so harsh at first but already they’ve disappeared.
The glass shards are my last remaining vestiges of S., the siren bartender who was the most unhealthy infatuation of my adult life. The glass came from shattering one of the tumblers she gave me. I came to call them gimlet glasses, since I use them for nothing else but vodka and lime gimlets. I broke the last of those glasses and deliberately left the shatterment tucked away where I could see it and be aware of it. It’s my little monument to S., I guess? In the end we didn’t even like each other but for those years we were together she always made me nervous, but confident. Now here she is again, slashing my balls. She would have laughed loudly, hoarsely, and at great length over this little incident.
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I am at work, at the dead-end non-living-wage job reminding myself that I should not feel trapped here. I am not a prisoner. I am free person, albeit at this time my professional movements are guided by market conditions, ageism, and other factors out of my control. I also have to remind myself, in this present circumstance, that I am not an important person. I am insignificant and expendable. “I AM A VERY IMPORTANT MAN!” is something I used to tell myself upon arriving at this job. It’s an old joke from a chat room I once hosted. I would tell myself this, in a childlike voice, to energize myself and make myself feel like a key player in this enterprise. But I’m not. I’m thel owest of the low in this organization. In this role I’ve tried to elevate my time here by befriending co-workers, but it just doesn’tt work. I don’t connect with anybody here, and I reached a point some time ago where I decided to speak as little as possible. I speak when spoken to, as befits a worker of my ran.
I will assume that this attitude serves to my detriment. But what will it matter when I move on?
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The 5:15am Amazon delivery still kind of spooks me. They did not re-attempt delivery and I think I will just cancel the order. It was kind of needless anyway, save for a face wash.
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I find that my pear stems have been pretty stable, this after my earlier experiences with some of them being removed. They cannot have fallen out of place in this locations. Someone had to have seen them and deliberately removed them. My ambitions now are simply to have two pear stems on every window ledge, one on each side. That will be my legacy here. Nothing else I’ve done here will be remembered.
I get 10 days off starting Tuesday. In over 3 years here I’ve never taken that much time off all at once. It’s all been a day or two here or there. I’m interviewing for a gig that sounds too good to be true, posted by a person or entity with no history online.
As I tried to explain to one of the only people I can actually talk to here, I imagine that in my absence it will be discovered that I am not that valuable after all, not needed and not missed, and so my termination will come forthwith upon my return, or even during my absence. I don’t know if that is solipsistic or self-centered.
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Upudate on a critical matter: Upon performing a required bodily function I find that no blood appeared on my HANES. I had no expectation that it would but it was still a bit of a relief to know that my cuts heal quickly even in the most tender of parts.
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