This Is A Day In The Life Of Getting Over You

I leaned my head against the edge of my bed, where I had been so many times before; doing homework, talking on the phone with friends, cuddling with my niece, taking summer naps, writing on my laptop. But this time was different. The tears plummeted down my face as I whispered, “Please stop crying, please.”

“Please give me a chance,” were some of the last words I said to him, then I said, “Goodbye.” I finally realized I was caring for someone who would never ever care for me. It was time to drop the rock in the pond, and let it sink.

Sink is what I did. I sunk my fingers into my fuzzy white rug on my bedroom floor. The tears from my face made my hands a salty wet I haven’t felt since the last time I cried, which was last week.

Weak is how I felt, it’s all I felt. I looked up at the white paper lanterns on my ceiling and envied their freedom, to spin and twirl, dangling there without a care in the world. They looked so beautiful and happy.

Happy is something I won’t feel for a while. It is something I’m going to have to gain back. It is a feeling I will have to search for, like when you go to a wedding and wonder how you’ll ever find the perfect one.

One reflection was all I had in the mirror that night; my own, and I looked like shit. The girl who once had it all together, had everything blown apart.

Apart was my heart. I felt it burning in my chest as I looked in front of me. An open suitcase stood at my feet. I was waiting to hear back about a job. I would move and then I would move on. I let my fingers wipe away my tears; I stood back up and smeared my snot on my pajama shirt I had worn for days.

Days are what I needed, to get over you.