if u don’t cry, it isn’t luv

I’ve never been married but this sure feels like a divorce. Coming from someone who doesn’t generally spend a whole lot of time staring at the dregs at the bottom of an empty cup, preferring to instead have my fingers already sticky with something else, this whole ordeal has been rather traumatic. And I say that I never really loved you like that. Well.

on day 1, I celebrated avec un Rainier and a Dijornio dinner– in my friend’s apartment, I welcomed myself back to the hood while telling you to go fuck yourself with your expensive wine. (in not so many words but you get the idea.)

on day 2, I went out to Chungee’s with my friends. I flirted with that infamous Scottish bar tender and tried to maintain my composure. Just when one of my friends was really starting to get on my nerves, my fortune cookie told me not to let my friends impose on me. I’m not superstitious but I’ve never once had cause to complain about my manufactured fortunes.

Day 3, I met with my new roommate to be and felt truly optimistic. I’d felt liberated, free, and excited for coming prospects but it peaked on this day. Happy breakup playlist was flaring and I already had ballpark images of what my coming months might look like.  I was terrified but determined to leap and finally take charge of my own destiny. Paris, New York, friends in the mid-west– all was possible! My life was truly mine again. After dinner with the new roommate, I hung out with a good friend I hadn’t seen in a while and we had a truly special evening involving Rainier, wandering, moonlight, chocolate, and unfortunately, Dick’s. still, it was a long time coming and it was beautiful and almost perfect and I felt connected and supported and FREE, once again.

Day 4, I glowed with confidence and optimism. Seattle was so calm and for the first time, it felt like spring. I went for one of the best runs in a while and I bought myself groceries from the coop. You approached me later that day and I was happy to have had some healthy closure. I was making dinner, so I offered you some (how good it felt to have been COOKING for myself those past couple of days) and everything felt really natural. I didn’t feel crowded. I wondered why things hadn’t been like that before. Why we thought hanging out so frequently was a good idea. Why — but then, of course, I felt crowded once more and I went out into the world, less because I wanted to hang out with my friends and more because I felt trapped. Anyway, I spent too much money and drank too much whiskey but I danced my heart out and it was good times.

Day 5, I’m hungover and feel like crying again. A part of me is glad we’re still talking but I see how rapidly it’s slipping back into the cycle. At least the papers are signed and there’s no going back. I’m scared again and the sad breakup playlist is back. Finals are coming up but like I said I’m hungover because I guess I’ve been drinking rather a lot lately and I’m drowning in chocolate

I’ve cried every single day for the past week. Maybe longer. I could blame it on my period, or at least acknowledge that as a potential facet, or my high stress lifestyle, or these transformations, or my INFP personality type, or, or or

I could just acknowledge that crying feels just as good as an orgasm and that I tend to do a lot of both.

I fall in love again and again, I feel SO much for SO many but I can never express any of it, I can’t stay anywhere, and nothing is mine. I can’t write, I can’t think, I can’t sleep, I can eat, no problems there, as long as I eat beet salads for lunch all of the chocolate in the world is okay, right?

right.

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