I’ll admit I’m still not over him, I’ll admit it’s been six months and that anyone in their right mind would say, “about damn time”. I’ll admit I haven’t been a very good daughter lately and that my parents deserve better. I’ll admit, sometimes I feel like I’ll need therapy, just to get past this phase. I wouldn’t say things are miserable in their truest sense, but I will admit that my head always seems to be delirious.
I can’t seem to be able to write what I have in mind, not because I’m afraid or unsure but because I just can’t put the words together in my head. And every time someone asks if I’m okay, it’s almost as though the world collapses on me and I’m speechless, I am okay, but I don’t find that to be the appropriate answer because it just doesn’t feel right. And when people ask if I just miss being a child…I don’t. I wouldn’t under any circumstances give anything to have my childhood back, it was a phase that I barely even remember, and this in no way means I didn’t have a childhood and was robbed off of it. I just don’t want it back.
And now what? Shaky hands, headache, heartache, inability to write, numbness? Yeah. Well.
Great! Just. Great.