I'm So Sick of Periods

I don't know about you, but I am so sick of periods. It seems like every month I feel exactly this same way. It has been like this since I was eleven years old and first started writing. It lasts only about a week but for that time at least periods really suck. All I want to do is sit down and try to convey my thoughts in writing but my head hurts, my stomach cramps up, and I am generally in a lot of pain. I start to write and I'm just cruising along, thoghts flowing onto the page, but then I am forced to slow down, pause or stop completely, sometimes in mid thought, all because of stupid periods. I mean, why do I have to deal with these stupid periods every freaking time I write? Why can't I just keep writing and writing without any pauses or breaks or stops? It really makes me cranky and angry and irritated, and tired. Sometimes I get so sick of periods that I get diarhhea. It's bullshit really. Whoever invented periods should be taken outside and shot. I mean seriously, it's not fair. I can't be sure but it seems like only about half the people I know are as sick of periods as I am. What about the other half? Why do periods not seem to bother them at all? Everyone has to write something, at least every once in a while. Shouldn't we all get sick of periods? It doesn't make any sense really, if you stop to think about it, which I often have extra time to do since when I get really sick of periods I usually have to stay home from work one or two days so typically have extra time on my hands. Unfortunately, because I am so sick of periods on those days I call in, I can't even get out of bed, let alone write anything. From the first moment I realized how sick I was of periods I tried to imagine what they might be useful for. There has to be some advantage to them right? Why else would they be so common in written communication. And they have been around forever. Likely since the very beginnings of writing itself, maybe even earlier than that. Without periods, when reading we would not know where one thought ends and another begins, but at least I could make it through a month without three to five days of blinding headaches and debilitating nausea. It is definitely a mystery. Almost as mysterious as the severe acne that always seems to reappear whenever I get really sick of periods. Of course periods can also very useful when one wants to emphasize something in writing or even when talking. But, for me at least, that does not outweigh the negative aspects of periods including the bizarre mood swings, recurrent yeast infections, and painful joint swelling that make me so sick of them.

THE END.

You know what else I am so fucking sick of? Vocal's six hundred word count minimum for story publication. Once again I am forced to sit here and type out a load of crap to append to this perfectly good story that happened to end at 508 words, in order to meet this totally arbitrary, counter productive, and downright stupid rule. Five hundred and sixty nine words. Five hundred and sevety five words. Five hundred and eighty one words. Five hundred and eighty seven words. Five hundred and ninety three words. Five hundred and ninety nine words. Yeah! I did it! Sigh.