I’m putting on my makeup.
I’m trying not to cry.
I broke my heart… I do that a lot.
I’m really good at it.
Almost as good as I am at putting myself back together.
Practice indeed makes perfect.
It starts with pain no amount of ibuprofen can tackle.
First, the chest caves in, then it caves in again, then it crumbles further…
You get the idea.
Sick. So ill that food is entirely unappealing.
Head hurts from crying.
Get so tired from crying, all that’s left is…
I become sustainably numb.
I coast on it.
I’m tired. A lot.
But it’s better than pain.
Although, the fatigue and bodily pain is still at an all-time high.
I am my own best friend, and I betrayed myself.
I have a lot to sort out with myself.
I’m getting there. I’m making it.
I don’t know where to start, but it’s already started.
Revolving around the sun tends to do that.