You. Yes, you. Curled up under the sheets in an old cotton shorts and a black bra and tackling the first day of periods. As the blood that didn’t find its worth inside your body flows down to find its place of warmth to settle down between your legs, you find life in hot chocolate and an old movie that makes love look and feel right. As the first sip of hot chocolate twirls through your throat and tingles the clit of your throat, your eyes close a little. Drowning in the pain of your uterus shrinking, you grab a book from the pile on the floor. You lazily turn pages like that’s a job meant for the strong, you try hard to focus. You watched woman on woman porn the previous night and you’ve been thinking about masturbation but you know that’s a bloody affair now. You feel the blood land on the pad. you wonder, why. Why is this a monthly ritual that you need to endure. you don’t have an option. you either endure this or get pregnant. Thankfully the one above had enough knowledge on biology to not make both occur at the same time. You close the book. Beyond 3 pages, things blurred. the book and your mind. you get up and stand in front of the dressing mirror. Messed up hair. face folded like dirty laundry. Body smelling of blood. Blood that didn’t feel very welcomed inside. Blood that you expelled because you were quite full to the brim. Blood that reminded you that you should be doing that to some humans too. expel them. push them. it shrinks the heart just like the uterus. it does. but its good. it cleanses you just like what blood does. you look at yourself. amused at how something as simple as periods leads you to think of life changing decisions of kicking people out of your system. you take a comb and mess your hair a bit more. apply a deformed kohl to your eyes. some matte maroon on your lips that were burnt crisp with the hot chocolate that you sipped. You go back between the sheets. wrapping yourself with warm fresh cotton on you. the evening sun plays hide and seek. just like your mood. you go back to the movie that you paused. the old classic one that reinstalls faith in love and all that jazz. you smile. you cry. the maroon matte makes its first impression on the ivory mug that is still left with last few drops of hot chocolate. you taste a bit of the animal tested product along with cocoa. you snug with the book as the movie dialogues play the perfect voice over for the page on why the protagonist wants to win back his ex. your mind rewinds and replays your past to you. that guy who left you for that girl. that girl who stepped down from the best friend position. you smile. you cry. you wipe the tears. finish the last drops of hot maroon animal tested chocolate. go to the restroom. change your pad. come back to curl up in the sheets in an old cotton shorts with blotches of blood stuck on it and black bra again.