Who I am.

insight thirtyeight break ups. they suck, they really really suck. for most people its the stereotypical few days crying into four tubs of cookie dough ice cream then getting drunk and making out with some dude who you have forgotten the name of. for me, its not the same. yes i have done the sitting in the shower with the water on my back whilst crying thing, that happened. but the rest of the time has been different. i sat in my room and cried to hours straight over nothing but our converstaion on snapchat, a few printed photos i removed from my wall and some sad songs from a playlist. as much as drank i let out, and when you say you knew it would hurt me, i don't know how you could expect it not to. i have spent my time preparing for this, yet i wasn't prepared for myself, the way i am, or the way i might become. I've disconnected from people, and when i laugh i just go back to my normal numb mood within seconds. the happiness, the emotion of happiness has been ripped ...

insight thirtythree it sits in my stomach, like a balloon. just blocking the path for food, keeping me full for starving days. the pain sits there, making me feel sick and weighed down by the regret and things I should've said, and the things I shouldn't of. a silent tear roles down my face and I picture you, standing there perfectly pixilated at the bus stop, smiling as a come to a stop at your side. your freshly cut blonde hair ribbon tied into parallel pigtails, just swinging above your shoulders. a long neat tie lying low underneath your top button, shirt tucked into a black pleated skirt. I can never look at knee length socks and skirts in the same way again, you suited them so nicely. your piercing eyes gleaming as your bright smile infects another onto my face. it sits in my throat, like a rough spikey tennis ball, making it hard to breath as that one song comes on, or that one view reminds me of who was my best friend. I told you a lot of things, you listened and he...