Sunday Scaries

Jesus Christ and Other Swear words

Volume II: Anxiety Rainbow

A Slower Burn to Fiery Finish. About 10-15 minutes

Chapter III: Sunday Night Scream Into the Void 

I lie (awake) to myself

A feeling of impending doom. So many emails. Existential dread and the Sunday Scaries. 

I cannot sleep, it is nearly midnight. I have so much to do this week.

I lie awake and try to think of all the embarrassing things other people have done.

I can't think of any, so I go back to remembering my own social failings.

The time I tripped in front of my Crush age 14. My disastrous bangs of just last year. The time I mispronounced Worcheschertshishire in front of my cute coworker. The 23 blocks I walked with toilet paper stuck to my foot and that afternoon tanning in the park with a tampon string dangling from my bikini bottoms. Everyone remembers. I am sure of it. I farted once on a conference call.

Monday is only a few hours away. So many emails and the dishes sit soaking for a third day. I shouldn't have slept in today. I have so much to do tomorrow. I think about every time i've fucked up in my past 30 years.

My anxiety builds and I try again to refocus my attention. I try to remember all the embarrassing things other people have done, but I literally cannot think of any. I sort of remember one of my friends shitting his pants. Was that the day I walked into the sliding glass door. Do you think he remembers? Oh god, was it me that poped my pants? Oh jeez, i said poped, not pooped. Im talking out loud to myself.

Thank god no one is here.

I feel lonely.


I eat a CBD chocolate and feel the anxiety of impending doom. So many emails.

I remember. I remember every embarrassing thing I have done in my entire life. I have so much to do this week. So many emails. I have a meeting tomorrow and I don't feel prepared. That time I was left hanging for a high five with my hand in the air. I looked like Hitler with no friends. It is Sunday and life is Scary. So much to do this week. Were they laughing at me? I feel lonely. No one talked to me today. I feel like the Pluto of my friend group.

I decide to crowdsource some self esteem and climb on Tinder.







Oh damn this guy is hot.

Damn, 5’10












Every time I swipe right it's a Match. I feel attractive and desirable






Double ew!




Nothing. What!?

I lower my standards




Nothing. Nothing. Nothing

Sunday Feels Scary Again. I have so much to do tomorrow. I don't want to play the game anymore. I fear rejection from strangers. Kinda horny tho. I survey my matches and read messages:


“Wanna Fuck?”

“Nice weather Today”

“Show me your bobs?”

“Nice Feet”

A profile stands out


6”2’ “Ive never shoed a horse, but I told a Cow to go home once”

I don't really get it, but he's HOT. That fish he caught is HUGE! I climb out of my comfort zone and message first. I've never done this before

“Hey” she wrote with butterflies




18 minutes pass. Nothing.

I go back to swiping unenthusiastically




 I feel like a Moth in a world of Butterflies. Undesirable.

OH GOD. I research gravity blankets and take a xanax. I think of Cocoons.

I fall asleep lonely horny disappointed anxious and 8% numb. So many emails. Maybe I can do the dishes tomorrow after work, the gym, and picking up my prescriptions. I shouldn't have messaged him. I need groceries. That time I tripped on the bleachers and Becky laughed at me. I run through the grocery list in my head. Eggs, avocados, kombucha, spinach, Shame, paper towels, CBD chocolates. I feel weird.


I survive another week with espresso and antidepressants. It was hard. I am so tired. I am so tired all the time. Its sunday night and I feel The Doom coming again. I batten the hatches and prepare to wait out the emotional storm under the weight of my new Gravity Blanket. Its heavy and sweaty and I regret buying it. My anxiety rises to new highs and I feel like an idiot. Thank god no one is here. I feel lonely. 


Blake:                                                                                                                                        :Me

“Hey ;) still up?”

I think about unmatching to teach him a lesson for not replying to me last week, but digital or not, I really need this distracting attention.

“Maybe ;) whatcha doing?”

Trying not to think about Monday LOL

LOLOL Same Same. Sunday Scaries :o

LOL I KNOW! Just gotta get through this week,

I am getting a puppy on Friday!

Puppy! What kind!?

A Frenchi :) her name is Luna


You have any pets?

Nooooo :(

You can come play with mine!

Cats or Dogs?

YES PLZ! I grew up with dogs :)

What was the name of your first pet?

Daisy :) she was so sweet

Awww, where did you grow up?

Seattle, just moved for a new job

It's hard being in a new city!

Well I can show you around!

What is your job?

Never been to Seattle, were you born there?

Born in Suburbia, lol

 a little town nearby called Auburn

I work for a company that has meetings

I have a friend from Auburn!

LoL what do you meet about?

No way!

We meet about other meetings

Yea, did you got to Westside Elementary?


Oh nice, her mom was a teacher there

Did you have Mrs. Ellison for 1st grade English?

I don't remember a Mrs. Ellison?

I had a Mr. Gardner

Oh lol. U like cars?

Sort of

I just got a new one :)

What was the make and model of your first car?

Wow! You are having quite the year!

Lol 1994 black honda civic. The dream

You sound like a Capricorn


Oh nice, when is your birthday?

August 24th, 1990

Just got a pic of my puppy, wanna see?



I like Capricorns ;)

Oh god that sounded desperate

Texted you

Didn't get it!

Tried again

Nothing :(

Lol new phone too, I think its fucked tho

Whats your email, I wanna show you my bb pup!

Lol look at you Mr. New




Did you send it?



Fal Asleep? lol


An email arrives to my racing heart. He's so inquisitive! New car and a puppy! I wonder what he does for a living? Such a Gentleman, that was a whole hour of texting and he didn't even ask for nudes. I click the notification but my email won't open. 

Please login to continue. I type my password “Daisy123”

Incorrect password/email combination

Please try again

Oh, is it lowercase?


Please Try Again


Please Try Again


Please Try Again

Ugh im so tired, I can't even type right. I'll leave it for morning


Vegan Jessica III sleeps well in dreams of Blake, Frenchi’s and Avocados under the weight of her anti-anxiety gravity blanket. She wakes with a smile and grabs her phone eagerly.

Please Try Again

Please Try Again

Vegan Jessica III eats her last free-range Avocado on a piece of whole-wheat gluten-free non-cruelty noGMO carboloaf. Num!

Please Try Again

Fucking Annoying!

I switch over to my work email and begin responding to CC threads as I walk to the train. I meet with my team and we plan our next meeting. We have a great plan to plan. 

I get home exhausted. I am so tired. We met for three hours and planned for three more days of planning meetings about meeting plans. I log in to tinder and check my messages. Nothing. I take a xanax and go to sleep. The dishes are molding and i'm out of avocados.


I wake stressed and skip breakfast. I head into work and drink espresso. We meet again to discuss our plan to plan. Everything goes as planned and we adjourn. I get out of work 15 minutes early and swing by CVS Pharmacy for LaCroix and drugs.

Some freak in a fedora oggles my breasts through my oversized sweater. What is he even looking at?

“Hi, yes, prescription pickup for Vegan Jessica III. It should have been called in Monday”

“Sure thing, insurance and ID please. Have a seat, it'll be about 15 minutes”

Pharmacists are just drug baristas, change my mind. I wait 45 minutes for the man in the never-dirtied lab coat to grab a prepackaged bottle of prozac from the wall. I hand him my credit card.

“Im sorry Ma’am, your card was declined, do you have another?”

The word ‘Ma’am’ turns three of my pubic hairs grey. It makes me kind of miss that creep in the fedora surveying my body.

Are you sure? Can you try again

Yes ma’am, the card is declined. Do you have another Ma’am?


Can you try calling them? I left my debit at home and don't have any cash.

I glance at my Fitbit. The time is 6:01pm

Its after 6pm Ma’am, you'll have to wait till tomorrow.

 I leave the CVS and the pharmacists spends the next 30 minutes placing the bottle of pills back on the shelf. 


I go home feeling frustrated. I skip the mailbox, dishes, dustbunnies and head straight for my bed. I pull the gravity blanket over my head like a ghost and feel a little better. I eat a half a pound of CBD chocolate and feel much better.

I log into Tinder. Fucking Blake ghosted. Unmatched. Under my blanket I get scared of ghosts and eat another ¼ pound of CBD chocolate.


I wake feeling like shit. I don't know why. I feel stressed. I call in sick to work and take a xanax and go back to bed. I awake to a phonecall from an unknown number. Fucking spamassrobocalls. I scream FUCK YOU to 1s and 0s. There's a panic rising in my throat.

I haven't checked my personal email in days now and try to log back in. I click password recovery and an email is sent to my old college email | Ugh I can't believe I used to eat honey and drink milk with my coffee; I feel ashamed of my former self. It feels like a Sunday, but it's only wednesday.

I try to login to my old college email to recover my password for my post-college email.

I try to remember my old password

Please Try again

I try all my old combinations

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Lockout timer 29:59..



Ugh I hate this shit.

 Trying to recover a password to recover a password. Did I type it wrong? Was it capitalized? Am I just not remembering it right? Was the ‘I’ a “!” ?? Was there 123 at the end, or maybe beginning?

I need to set my passwords to things I can never forget. Maybe take a lesson from Sunday. Shame and Trauma seem to make for fantastic passwords. 


That's not something im likely to forget

I spend the next 29 minutes finally doing the dishes and feel a little better.

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Lockout timer 59:59


I hate this shit. I click the password recovery button on my college email and a third is sent to my very first email address.

I go to and try to login

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

Please Try again

It feels like im opening those Russian Dolls. Every time I open one, another is there. The Russian Nesting Dolls of Digital Frustration. Please Try Again Later.

    Recover the password

                                           to recover the password

                               to recover the password

Please Try Again

I channel my frustration and hit the gym. Pilates class with Pontious. I stop on the way home and Scream into the Void. I feel a little better.

I check the mailbox before the stairs.

I turn the key and an avalanche spills out. Envelope after envelope, it seems unending. They just keep coming. The cascade flow dries to a dribble and I reach inside to scoop the rest of my mail out.

My arms are full of dead trees and I feel sad. Plus its like super heavy after an hour of cross planking. I ascend the stairs and unlock the door with my keys in my mouth. I push the door open with my forehead and dump the heavy mess of envelopes and magazines on the floor. 

A Victoria Secret catalogue catches my eye. I make a mental note of my despise for their company message and start perusing the pages. What kind of image are they putting in the heads of young girls. False standards of beauty. Where are the real women! That bra is like super cute tho. I order three in different colors but my card is declined. The bras never come, its ok tho, they wouldn't have fit me anyway.

When my card is declined I think of Blake’s rejection again. Ghosted. What an asshole. Whatever he's probably just another pig who gets off to Victoria Secret models and supports an impossible standard of beauty. I am now convinced Victoria’s real Secret is mainstream distribution of introductory pornography to young boys in suburbia. That's a big mental leap to take from subquality prethought, but I think it's important to note where some of these idolized false standards of beauty start. They start with aging young Mother’s ordering VS products and catalogs to catch renewed interest from their lazily inattentive husbands and trickledown pornoEconomics recycles the catalogs to prepubescent boys. Hidden and stolen, they are a prime middle-school currency. The image of Desire becomes fixed in pubescent development and the path upscycles again.

I throw the catalog away disgusted and pick up my copy of the much more realistic Vogue. I eat more CBD chocolate and forget to call my credit card company. I fall asleep with fragrant advertisements and two miles of photoshop-smoothed Gigi Hadid legs on my face.


It's a beautiful morning and i'm feeling rested. I don't know what happened to Thursday. We have a brief meeting about next week's meeting and are dismissed early. Summer Fridays are the best! I meet up with my besties and we dress up to impossible standards of beauty.

 Thin pink straps patterned with “VS VS VS” loop my shoulders out of my strapless black dress. Clash is in. I think it looks cute even tho the bra doesn't fit well. I lace up my gladiator platform cork wedges and we head out for a night of dancing.

 I dance next to my ugliest friend and bask in double attention.

Buy you a Drink?

Wanna Dance?

Ever Ride a Motorcycle?

All eyes on me. I dance and twirl and snort the night away. This cocaine is fantastic. My credit card still doesn't work so I have boys buy me drinks. I black out a bit and wake up in my Uber home. Its light out and the birds won't shut up about the stupid sun. My heart is beating arhythmically and I feel weird. A feeling of impending doom is brewing and it makes me feel weirder - it's not even Sunday. 

I sober up a bit, but can't sleep. I decide to finish the vial of cocaine I took from that boy and do some housekeeping.

I take the trash out and open my computer. I feel inspired to clean and conquer.

 I will recover my password!

I see a button for ‘alternate recovery options’ on my ancient @aol email and click

A series of questions challenge my identity

“Date of Birth”

August 24th, 1990

“What was the name of your first Pet?”


“What was the name of your 1st grade English Teacher?

Mr. Gardner

“What City Were you Born in?”


“What was the Make and Model of your First Car?”

1994 Black Honda Civic

And just like that I'm in! I recover my password and recover my password and recover my password.

The russian dolls reassemble and my anxiety plummets




Until I open Gmail to a Nightmare

The realization grips me. The Saturday Scaries are Real. I spring to the 4 foot foyer of my apartment where the non-fashion-catalog remainder of my mail avalanche sits piled like rubble. 

I rifle through envelopes and cut my finger. It really stings. I suckle a droplet of blood and read the envelopes

Chase | Amex | Credit Karma | MasterCard | Kohls Discover Card | ATT | SPRINT | T-Mobile

Bills. Bills of all kinds. Bills of all shapes and sizes. Bills Not mine, but mine. An acre of rainforest in bills.

My iphone rings and my phone wont open. Panic Panic Panic. Saturday Scaries. I pull my bleeding finger from my mouth and the iphone recognizes my face. I answer the call

Ma’am i'm calling from TransUnion Credit Reporting, we've seen some unusual activity on your report this week, can you confirm opening the following 227 Credit Cards on Sunday between the hours of 11pm and 4am Monday Morning?”

(This phone call 97% actually happened)

My vision spots and I hit the floor.


I awake Sunday. My head is throbbing and my finger hurts. I look at the papercut and it stares back with green eyes. It smells like Almond Butter, but the gross GMO kind. I put CBD oil on it and leave the house.

I head to the hospital, but my credit card is declined. My finger is green to the knuckle and it definitely feels like a Sunday.

I head home and curl up in my bed. With my green arm I pull the gravity blanket over my head and cry. I fall asleep feeling scared and not safe. 

I wake to pain. The green has spread throughout my whole body. I feel weak. I need to go to work. So many emails. 

I feel The DOOM

I try to lift the gravity blanket, but I am weak and it is too heavy.

The longer I stay, the weaker I become. Days pass and I miss meeting after meeting. I sweat profusely trapped inside a cocoon of anxiety. Unseen emails pile up and add to the weight. My phone is out of battery and I can't reach past the blanket for my charger. I need water. I really need water.

I feel The DOOM

I think of blood poisoning and my plummeting credit score
The Chrysalis hardens to reject the outside world

It becomes my Tomb. I feel safe here.

Immune to Anxiety

 No emails, no meetings.

 The DOOM fades to black and so do I.

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