Heat lightening flickers furiously in the night sky as I walk up the hill to the pizza place.
I pass by the bar and can hear music blaring from inside.
A man who is clearly drunk is outside on his cellphone.
It sounds like he's talking to a girl.
I walk inside the brightly lit store and walk up to the counter.
A guy has his back to me as he's taking an order on the phone.
Finally after what feels like forever he gets my pizza, I pay, and leave.
I begin walking back down the dark sidewalk away from the lights and the people.
I know that I could step inside that bar and meet someone.
Not even a guy like that, just someone to talk to.
But I don't want to.
Tonight I will eat pizza in bed alone and watch Girls.

I don’t know why I don’t feel anything.
I did for about two days and then that
ooey gooey butterfly flew away.
I tried listening to that country song,
the one about the blue eyed problem,
the one that had me holding back tears
as he sang along in the car.
How can I be so hot and cold.
There’s something wrong with me.
Am I really that damaged
or will I just love the person that damaged me
forever?

I want to promise myself that by this time next year I will be happy.
I will be no matter what it takes.
I want to promise her I will put her first.
I want her to believe me that I will make the right choice, and the right changes and I'll figure this out.
I want her to look in the mirror and know that I made the future for her.
I want her to never feel bad for finding happiness.
I've done this once, I can do it again.
I can do it.
I will do it.

Days feel like months,
so breaking down crying in the
kitchen while I make ramen
noodles
was not what I thought I’d
be doing.
I haven’t cried in over 24 hours.
I felt great yesterday.
I even took a few selfies
and posted them.
But now I am sick in bed,
literally and I can’t stop
thinking about him.
I don’t want to do this forever.
Like somewhere in the back of my head
I think there’s a finish line,
and we’ll come back together.
But there’s not this time.
This is it.
My best friend will become
someone else’s best friend and
he won’t think of me anymore.

I hate myself because I destroy my own happiness.
I can feel it in the pit of my stomach, this unwelcome rage that is like boiling water bubbling over the edge of a ***.
I’ve always found it fitting that my zodiac sign is the Taurus because sometimes I can be so stubborn, I won’t budge.
I can gleefully sit and watch everything burn around me but then instantly regret it as I am left in the ashes wondering
what happened?!


Nobody brings me down better than I do.

I’m spending my night drinking
hot chocolate and rewatching
Gilmore Girls: Seasons.
I’ve sat at the kitchen table to smoke
some **** while the house is dark
and quiet.
Everyone else is asleep because
they all have jobs to go to when
they wake up.
I am unemployed.

I’m crying in my car because
my body keeps doing things I can’t control,
because my back hurts,
because I just wanna go home
and hug all of my stuffed animals.

And I’m crying because I miss him
all the time.

Today I woke up feeling sad, and I had a good cry about it for a minute and knew that today was the day to get a little retail therapy.
I went in search of something that would make me feel hot.
I found a blue jumpsuit with a floral pattern and when I tried it on it accentuated all of my curves while making me look thin, and honestly the ***** has never looked better.
I bought it along with a cute shirt and a cheap little tank top.
When I got home I took a picture in the jumpsuit and posted it to Instagram.
Dan texted me and said, ***.
I replied, what?
He sent the photo I posted and said, where have you been hiding all my life? ***.
The goal to find something to make me feel hot totally worked.
Sometimes all you need are new clothes to brighten your mood.

If I could go back
5 years ago to
23 year old me I would tell her
to walk away.
To not speak to him.
No matter how badly I needed to.
I would miss out on all of the
love,
all of the love I gave to him
and all of the love he gave to me.

But it would be worth it.
Worth it to miss the pain he
caused,
worth it to never know what it
was like to love him.
It would be worth it to know
who I would have became
if he never entered my life
and flipped it upside down.
I might be married,
have a kid or two.

And most of all I wouldn’t have
this giant hole in my heart
that grew larger in size
each time he left me.
I wouldn’t be 29 years old,
single and completely
terrified of what’s out there.
Who is out there.

If I could go back I would
choose to have never met him.

I felt my voice catch in
my throat when he approached
the window.
I swallowed the tears and waited
for him to get inside.
As I slowly drove he asked me
how I’ve been,
I said good, mhm.
The silence was so loud
and he tried to cover it up by
telling me about how he’s been
busy fixing up his apartment.
He directed me to the storage unit
which wasn’t far.
I watched him sift through a few
boxes to find the pans and utensils,
carrying anything to the car
that’s mine.
When that was it he walked up
to me and we just looked at
each other.
I reached out first
and he hugged me close,
wrapping his coat around me.
That’s when I felt the tears coming back
I tried to stop them
but ever since we split all
I have wanted is his arms around me.
He said,
you know I love you right.
I nodded.
On the drive back he made small talk
and tried to make me smile,
and then we were back.
He told me he’s sorry again
and that it isn’t me.
He said to be good and try to have fun.
I hugged him again
and then he was gone.
It’s the last day of the year
and it’s the last day I’ll see him.
Our story is over.

Sometimes
I put on a few
drops of the perfume he
bought me for
Valentine’s Day.
The one where he took me
to an Italian place
because he knows spaghetti
is my comfort food.
We were genuinely happy
that day.

Even though maybe
just two weeks before
he slapped me during
an argument,
and two weeks later he would
break up with me.

And I would try to break
the bottle of perfume
on the bathroom floor
and swear I’d never
smell it again.
But sometimes,
I still put it on.

I have a nice man.

He tells me he misses me
every day,
and apologizes when he
gets too busy at work
to respond.
He randomly tells me
I’m pretty and
kisses me on the forehead.
He almost knocks me off
the bed at night
because he wants to be
close to me
and he comforts me when
I’m sad or scared.
He lets me know how
he feels
and what he’s doing
and checks to make sure
I know he really likes me.
Being with him is like
being wrapped in a warm
blanket in a cozy bed.
He is a safe, soft place to land
and he’s all mine.

My mental health is deteriorating and nobody cares!
I ask for help but I’m met with blank stares.
“You’re over dramatic, all women are the same.”
It’s no wonder good girls end up going insane.
I feel like a ghost lost in my apartment,
trying to find someone to share my heart with.
Can someone for once just care about me?
Why am I so easy to leave.

I think he was
going to say it.
Or wants to
but won’t for some reason.
He’s been saying
everything except
those 3 words.
But I’m in no rush,
I want him to
really mean it,
and me too.

I’ve spent so much time sitting on the floor, slowly picking through the debris to piece myself back together. I was almost whole again when you showed up and helped find the last few shards of glass to rebuild the mirror I look at myself in. I changed. I’m older, stronger. But even you said I still look broken and I see it too. So please be careful.