I can’t stop thinking about him. Please go away. All my changed woman shit went out the window, apparently. Crying all day. Wishing he would reach out. Wishing things were different. Wishing I didn’t give a shit. Listing all the ways he was not good to me. Reminding myself over and over that he is married. He is not the man for me. Let go. Let go. Let go. He is not thinking about me. He does not give a shit about me. Stop. Drop. And Roll.
He is not all that.
I am. All. That.
The only thing that makes the pain go away is writing. After I write, I feel a sense of peace and serenity unparalleled. No skullcap tea with rose hips or hit of pot can do this for me. Writing.
Thank you, God, for writing.