Once a month there is a week of pain, of blood, of grief, and anger. Emotions swirl the days sickly, emotions leaking out of the eyes and tugging you on puppet strings Cope how you like but you can only prepare so much for the attacks. One day there is blood enough to soak the dead of the battle of the five armies. pain comes in waves, Head and stomach cursing you and scarring you Like you are the Boy Who Lived. one day there is crying, Kleenex and crusted, brown blood leaving bittersweet aftertaste and a need for chocolate. One day you can push through one day you can sleep one day it is not so hard some days you may weep. It might last longer than a week; that is the worst, but once a month always, Wait for it, prepare, and now it is coming, and now it is there. you are surfing the crimson wave, and it is harder than it looks.