It all started going awry last week. At work they dumped more and more work on me, making it seem like the powers that be wanted to see what it would take to make me fail.

As I became more and more overwhelmed, I had to fight my id to prevent myself from quitting on the spot and burning bridges.

I reminded myself to take deep breathes and not to complain outloud because as everyone knows, corporate walls have ears.

I won the battle at work, enough to merit a weekend repreave.

I knew my luck was slipping away from me on Friday afternoon, when I opened the door to my taxi and a delivery man on a bike rammed right into it, losing his balance and slipping off of his seat.

I knew he wasn't hurt, he didn't fall to the ground or anything, but even as I desperately shouted, "Are you ok!?" to the man, I knew this was a sign from the karma gods that more shit is going to rain on me.

Calls of things gone wrong poured into me on Friday. Calls about things out of my control, but things that I was responsible to fix, and I knew this was more of the inevitable evil coming to me.

I shouldn't have been surprised that I was separated from the visitors on Friday night.

Exhausted from the vicious cycle of the week and subconciously suspecting that I may harm the group if I joined them in revelry, I skipped out on Saturday night plans and went to bed after a neighborhood BBQ.

Last night the desperation settled into my soul and I stood, alone, in my bedroom, holding a package of Black Magic herbs in my hand and a scroll detailing the process required to invoke the protection gods.

I weighed the severity of this action, contemplating performing this ancient spell that invokes the power of the Holy Trinity via the Holy Bible.

Perseverence won, with guidance from my roommates mother who confirmed that Voodoo is not a matter to practiced lightly and should be saved for the most dire of circumstances.

Before placing the underground materials away, I rubbed the pouch of herbs on inside of my wrists for good measure.

Just in case. I really lose it.

Today passed tediously, filled with conflict that needed my attention from moment to moment for hours.

I left work on time, with the hope of hiding in dark theater, chosen because it was the least likely location for me to run into an acquaintance, and watching Spiderman alone. A character constantly facing conflict and wrestling with a dual identity, how appropos. I needed to see that good *can* prevail.

Buying tickets at the window in front of me, was a girl that I used to work with and so desperate to avoid human interaction with yet another perfect blonde in Jimmy Choos and the obligatory 3k rock on her finger (Tiffany setting, natch), I silently covered my head with the hood of my raincoat and slunk away from the window, causing ripples in the line that had formed behind me and turning the corner to stand in the pelting rain and futilely smoke an increasingly damp cigarette.

I headed home, nearing the brink of insanity and did the only thing I was capable of doing. I started packing.

I cleaned out my closet and packed an entire rack of clothing, a shelf and drawer of shirts, a box of everyday china. Plates and sugar bowls. Anything that can go, now.

The perimeters of my room are filled with shopping bags to send home.

I need to regain control and I'm starting with the basics.

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