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She just had to get out of the shame cave.
It was killing her.
She had texted him last night after celebrating that she had had one day of no crying and five days of no bleeding since "The Event" - since she asked him to be with her and he said "nope".
"Look on the bright side, now you know what an AA member feels like when they fall off the wagon. Useful huh."
She felt such shame. She had been doing so well too - kind of not even thinking about the situation and fretting so much. in ten days, it would be two months. Maybe it was OK to still be addicted to the drug of whatever it was.
And she was so lonely of course.
On her second walk, she realized that the only friends she had were people she met at school and at work - places she was forced to be.
Now, it was just her.
It used to be all she wanted - alone time in the woods - no one bothering her, and again she knew well that there were way worse things than being alone - being someone who was stuck with Andrew.
and knowing that her pre-frontal cortex went offline last night and her limbic fear caught up with her. It didn't help a bit. The thing that scared her was that she felt betrayed by her own mind.
It wasn't even a good text. It was some fucked up memory lane thinking about you bullshit - and she sent a freaky piece of art that she didn't even photo edit for beauty. It was weird. What the fuck was she thinking would happen? he'd go "oh crazy pathetic heartbroken idiot woman, let's chat. tonight's the night!" or that he'd heart emoji it?
It felt insane.
She felt insane.
She was talking to herself now saying things like "It's ok. it's ok. It makes it easier now. Now you know not to hope for him anymore as you've buried yourself... you're not that fat just ten pounds and you'll be golden... you've got to meet someone..."
But how? she'd have to actually encounter someone. Would it be the grocery store clerk? Would she strike up a convo and the Sunday pizza place she sometimes frequented? would she host a neighborhood party?
None of it. She just had the friends she could call or text.
She was very lucky to have a home - to have family - to have friends... but she was fucking Low. She wanted to kick herself in the ass. She didn't want to see a soul until she was back to being bulletproof.
She so wanted to just hide. She was hiding.
She made a pot of beans - the ones he returned. it helped her from having to leave the house or spend more money. She started another sentence with "she". The bed was made for the first time in weeks. It would get better tomorrow. It was going to rain. She was off.
It had to get better. Everyone said it would - even the robot.
People go nuts when they lose their trajectory. She remembers the only time she had ghosted someone - what she had thought of him - and it had been "loser - buy a clue, but god he sounds so sad. I'll never do this again."
Now she was the loser. The most she could hope he felt for her was kind pity.
the most she could feel for herself was
... thinking thinking.... she could feel
forgiveness.
she had loved. She had gone mad. she was a fucking human.
and she just had to force herself to go to the fucking trivia night.
and maybe the book club would start up again.
the air smelled like smoke. The mockingbirds were mocking loudly.
it was going to rain for the next few days.
(it all felt empty, but oh well.)
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