HBD to me?

Lily wanted Pop to keep her tonight, so I was getting ready at your house. My shirt/skirt combo was a mismatch, so I went into your closet to see if there had been anything left behind.

I wasn’t prepared for your smell to hit me.

Well, 60% you and 40% pee, because if we’re honest, the end was pretty fucking bad. You weren’t at your peak fragrance.

I cried, duh. I have been denying how hurt I am—how much I miss you. I don’t talk to my therapist, Bob Bob, about it. Some mornings, I cry the moment I open my eyes. The sun shouldn’t be allowed its beauty, and the rain shouldn’t give peaceful naps. The stars should dissolve into the sea of the night like the salt they look like. The flowers should wilt. The grass should die. The birds should mute. Everything should feel this tornado day and night.

I had this person, who was able to be the eye of the storm. When I heard his voice, the entire world stopped screaming in agony. He broke my heart though.

Sometimes I need alcohol for numbing; sometimes I need it to be allowed to feel without the shame of weakness. Everyone is subscribed to me as a manufacturer of joy and fun. Unsub for the tears. Unsub for the pain. Unsub if I’m quiet. The weight of continuing to be what people expect is heavy. Unlike wearing ankle weights, I don’t feel like I am getting stronger from it. I don’t think I’m acclimating to it. I crush. I dent. I break.