Tears roll down but they're the usual tears, and I'm too tired to pay them any mind. I can't think the big life thoughts today. I can't contemplate love and loss. I loved, I lost. Jesus. It's over.
New beginnings, new doorways, and here I sit crying in the car. Do I miss being treated like I don't matter?
I don't miss how he treated me; I miss how much I loved him. Despite how he treated me. Isn't that the rub?
I miss being insanely stupidly in love. I never thought it would happen to me. I wish it hadn't.
She asks me about the new one, asks me how I feel, senses me out, and I don't have much to say. I can't feel much for someone else when I'm still caught up on the one that broke me. I'm working on it, though. I tell her like she's my therapist, like I'm sending her a slip to get back to work, like I'm sitting in a meeting after a disastrous business choice. I am working on it. I understand the things I did and felt were not good for me, and I am working on being better. Every day I try to improve.
Every day I just strive to be better. Better than who I was, better than who I expected to be. It falls into place and I become this strange good person who is working hard and building successes, and it doesn't quite feel right, so I just cry at night and try harder.
It's been a long time now. A long time. I want to be over it. I want to embrace the new things that warm me up - shoulders in the dark, hands in mine, breathing in my ear.
Jesus. I am afraid. I am caught up and broken still, I've lost sight of who I am. I think I've found me again, and then something changes - the storm rolls in, the radio plays a song, and everything crumbles.
Jesus. Can I please stop being this broken-hearted girl.
The swearing becomes a prayer, the longer I say it, the more I mean it.
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