Still


The days drag on so slowly but time is slipping right through my fingers. Where do the weeks go? Autumn has hit almost full-force – cool, crisp mornings require jackets and scarves, and my body is unaccustomed to the extra weight.

Heartache and disappointment don’t get easier to deal with just because you’ve been doing it for so long. Contrary to popular belief, you don’t learn to work with it. It’s still a nuisance, dragging you down.

Sometimes love can be such a bother. Wouldn’t it be easier to cut your losses if it weren’t for love? I’m not heartless, or cold. I feel. And I love. And so here I am, day in and day out. I’m not going anywhere, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be glitter and rainbows and butterflies.

So much happens but there’s nothing, nothing new. I spend money I don’t have on clothes and shoes I don’t need because it makes me feel good, and sometimes I just need one little something to make me feel good, no strings attached, not buts about it. It’s hard for me to feel good all of the time around my son because I know that inevitably, in the morning I have to leave him again, and that inevitably, tomorrow he will be that much more attached to his father and that much less attached to me. Because his father is home with him all day, again, and I am not, still. Still. Still.

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