When your work wife tells you they’re leaving.

It’s that guttural punch to your stomach. 

The person who you’ve bonded with the most at work, the person you can’t wait to see when you first step into your office, the first person that you want to tell all your ‘oh so amazing’news to; turns around and tells you that they are leaving.

You can’t swallow, the room starts spinning, you can’t breathe. It’s at that exact second when you literally feel like your heart has broken.

You start to go through all the stages of grief:

Denial – this is not happening, she’s playing with me. She is going nowhere! We’re gonna continue sitting next to each other forever and bitch about all the people that we hate until the end of days.

Anger – how dare she leave me! Why is she so selfish! She knows that the only reason why I get up everyday and come into this place is because of her. Does she want me to survive coming into work? She must really hate me! She was never my friend.

Bargaining – if she just sees it to the end of the week she might just change her mind. Maybe if I list all the reasons why this is the best place to work and that she will never get anything better than this she will reconsider. If I find a way to finally get her office crush to speak to her that might sway her mind.

Depression – who the hell will I talk to about my fake work boyfriends now? Who will I eat lunch with. Visions of you walking in a room with a tray and no one to sit with flash in front of your eyes. Who will I bitch to about my nemesis to now? Everyone else in this office hates me, I’ll never find anyone like her again. I don’t even want to come back to work now. What if she finds a new work wife in her new job? What if this office is the only reason why we were friends in the first place and we never speak again?

Acceptance – I really want her to be happy. We will still talk to each other outside of work. Rosie seems like a nice girl, we always speak to each other in the morning and she takes the same train home as me.

Random Monologue: Fake Smile

Everyday I wake up and I wonder if this is really reality? Has one third of my life really gone by? Why am I still stuck in a life that I hate? Is happiness even real? Is this all I am?

These questions float around my head from the moment my eyes open, follow me throughout the day, and leave when my head touches my pillow.

I look in the mirror and cover myself with positive affirmations, pasting a fake smile on my face. This is my make-up. The reflection that stares back at me is not the me I know. This is the person that you all see, but a stranger to me.

This fake me walks around, showing people that all is good and well. Radiating this fake happy. When deep down I am dying inside. Bit by bit I slowly crumble. Struggling to keep this smile from falling down. The scaffolding that holds it up, struggling to keep the weight up and buckling from underneath.

I want to scream at people to help me. I want to cry and claw at my skin. Ripping it off so the real me is exposed. But instead I smile and continue on with this facade; hoping and willing that something or someone will come along and make a big change to my non-existence. That there really is a pot of gold at the end of this shattered rainbow.

One day I will find my happiness. One day I can stop this pretense.

But until that day, I must continue. So I cover myself in fakery, smile one last smile at the stranger in the reflection, and walk out into a world that does not know me.