Doctor Who, M.D.

I swore I'd never be one of those girls, but I'm not gonna lie.

It kind of hurt.

It wasn't a stabbing pain, more like a sharp twinge. Like your first bong hit. Or speeding through a yellow light when you should have come to a stop. Do you know that feeling? It was like my insides were being twisted in knots and pulled out through the middle of my D cups.

"This must be how it feels approaching a black hole," I said, sucking in a deep breath. Taking my bra off did nothing to release this tension. With every inhale my lids would close, and with every exhale, my eyes would sting.

Sad that a cursor did all of this. A blinking, black cursor. A nagging vertical line reminding you every second that you have nothing to say. Maybe because he has nothing to say to you.

It didn't start out this way. I had plenty of things to say. He had plenty of things to say. Hell, he had more things to say before I even knew he wanted to say them to me. Then somehow it led to a white box and invisible words. Staring at an empty screen 'til my eyes got fuzzy.

"Who told you love was fleeting/sometimes men can be so misleading/to take what they need from you," Tim Kasher sang.

I understand that I fall hard like an 82 year old without a walker, but... this time it felt right. Then again, it always feels right, but what Kasher sang is true- the facade is there until men gain what they sought. Then a violin is played, the curtain drops, the lights dim, and I'm alone on stage. Singing an aria to an absent crowd. Again.