Watermelon

(Well, all right then, just to humor you, take your worst period pain ever and multiply it by seven million and make it last for about twenty-four hours and then you have some idea.)

Get over it, and if you can’t get over it, get over talking about it.

because I had a baby about my person.

I’m wise to their intentions.

I just knew one thing, if it was dead, it was dead. No one can resurrect love once it has breathed its last.

I was torturing myself with these thoughts.

Anger is good, I told myself. Anger keeps the pain away. Anger empowers me.

Their will wasn’t strong enough to fight the inevitable, to reverse the waves of time.
And neither was mine.

I was just trying to make sense of a senseless situation.

Everything he’d said to me seemed like a dream. I couldn’t really remember the details, but I could remember the feeling. That sick feeling that something was very wrong.
But sometimes the loss would make a guest appearance.
It would invade me. It would take me over. It was like a physical force. It knocked the life out of me. It took my breath away. It was savage.
It hated me.
It had to, to hurt me so much.