The Earth is Flat and Other Lies I Tell Myself

I’ll only have one, I tell myself, as I settle in the easy chair on a Friday night with a pack of Oreos and the TV flickering sitcoms. The laundry beckons and my notebook gathers dust instead of stories. I’ll do it tomorrow. It’s not that pressing. I’ll just watch one more episode.

Tomorrow never comes, as the saying goes.

The weekend drains away like lukewarm bath water into Monday. I’ll get up early and work out every day, I plan, as I pointedly place my shoes beside my bed.

Morning comes the way it always does, harsh and sudden and unwelcome. I’ll just hit snooze one more time. I won’t be late again.

The early bird gets the worm or something like that.

Accolades and manly shoulder slaps are passed around the old boys’ club, but I won’t let it get to me. I wasn’t passed over for promotion because I’m a woman. It’s not a dead-end job; I’ll break through that glass ceiling someday. I’ve got no other choice—I’ve been here so long it would be a shame to have to start from the ground up somewhere else.

Better the devil you know, after all.

I can afford takeout tonight. Just as a treat. I don’t do it that often. It’ll save me time so I can write.  

It’s not that bad of a neighbourhood, as I juggle keys and Styrofoam and ignore the angry shouting three doors down. Everyone’s got an extra deadbolt on their doors these days. You can’t be too careful. Besides, I’ll find somewhere more permanent, more settled soon. I can totally sleep through the sirens anyway.

Bloom where you’re planted, and all that.

Reflex makes my thumb swipe no when my mother’s face lights up my phone. I’ll call her back tomorrow. I’m too busy. I’m too tired. She’ll understand.

I’m not lonely. I enjoy my solitude. All I need is the company of a good book. Or a stack of good books. Or books I’m sure are going to be good. I’m going to make time to read them all.

I’m happy. I am happy.

I have everything I need. Besides, everyone goes through phases of feeling unfulfilled. It doesn’t mean anything. The grass always looks greener on the other side.

But there is no other side. The earth is flat, after all.

Published by Aly Writes

I bake. I write. What goes better together than a good story and a delicious fresh-baked pastry? Nothing. And I can give you both. Grab a hot cuppa and join me.

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