a small remnant; any small quantity.

it all seems minuscule and yet so monumental- all at once.

i was looking at my toes peeking out from my peep toe heels, thinking about nothing important- needing a pedicure, or another pair of shoes equally as comfortable. i was nervously playing with my own hands, the way i always do when i’m avoiding eye contact. i was confessing something quite serious and the words sort of summer-saulted out out of my mouth before i could even stop them. i had literally verbally exploded and before i knew it, it was too late to retract anything i’d said.

maybe i’m selfish in thinking no one can grasp the pain i still allow myself to feel. i enable myself to hurt so much and let it get to me the way it does. and still- her response? she shrugged her shoulders. she dismissed my pain & loss like it was nothing. like i’d “get over it” when i’m mature enough to grasp the good i’d done. it seems stupid now, but it made me so angry to know someone else had been through a similar experience and felt nothing. how could you? how could you possibly feel nothing?

maybe i do this to myself on purpose.

i live alone, i mourn in silence, i feel sad when i go to sleep, and i feel inadequate when i wake up. i put hours and days of work into an apartment i already want to move out of, and i still hate calling this place home. there was a mouse once and i killed a spider a few hours ago, and the cupboards smell like old toast. no matter how many meals i cook, or hours i spend cleaning, or time i leave the windows open for fresh air… it still smells stale. it’s like some stupid metaphor for how fucking stagnant my life is, isn’t it?

i don’t know how i can play with the extremes of my lifestyles so seamlessly. strangers look at me in awe and wonder how the hell i stay so together, all the time. how i manage to be this responsible, independent business woman around the clock without losing my shit. but that’s the funniest part. i haven’t always been this way. they see the tight orange curls, the obsessively manicured nails, or the tailored suit jackets- and i’ve got them fooled. seven months ago i was ironically snorting drugs off an old book in my friend’s bed, i was drunk most days, and couch hopping. i had no energy to apartment hunt, i was thinking of ways to quit my job, and i was fooling myself into getting my “shit together”. in two months i’d drank away nearly $4,000… how is that even possible?

you see, that’s how i mourn loss. i self-destruct and i hit the snooze button until i’ve dug myself a hole so deep i can barely see the light. in the matter of seconds i’d lost my boyfriend, his family, a home, and my will to work. i had literally given up on everything and i was just waiting for a miracle.

i don’t remember what made me change my mind- but i did. i found a place to live, i put some money in the bank, and i finally quit my job. i had no real plan other than swim, because i’d been sinking for far too long. i fought hard to get the job i have now, and despite everything… i love it. i love the long hours, the hard work, and the stress of it all. i drink four coffees a day, i have no time to eat, and my boss is totally nuts, but i’ve found my niche- and against all odds… i’m good at it.

i don’t know what it is that keeps me writing about the past. i’m so consumed with immortalizing what is clearly dead- i’m consumed with what once was, and what will never be. i am so stuck on reliving the four worst years of my life, that it’s staggering my emotional growth. i have always been so fucking wrapped up in m and his stupid ability to control me, even years after i’ve left him. what is it about being broken that is so fucking easy?

i keep using all these horrible experiences as excuses to not get close- to not let anyone in. i figure if i don’t scare them away with all this baggage, then they’re too fucking crazy for me anyway. how funny is that? you know why my relationship with andy failed? because he knew i was afraid it was going to. granted, he’d met me two months after i’d left m and i was still petrified he’d find me, but that’s beside the point.

my emotions are unhealthy. i am unhealthy. and i need to get healthy if i’m about to let anyone in at this point. i have a big heart and my intentions lately have been mostly good… i need to move past this.

i’m just having a really, really hard time.