It was the morning after.......

It was the morning after. I woke up and I knew of the gaping hole that used to be my heart. That morning I had no desire to wake up, the night before, I wanted a switch to go off so I could unfeel what i just felt, unlove the ungodly amount that I loved, unsee how happy I thought we were, unhear all the I love yous ! I didn’t realize how the next morning was going to suck the life out of me. I stepped out of my bed and walked to the bathroom, bare feet, drawstrings of my pajamas dangling, hair in knots, mascara smudged all over the high cheek bones and gazed myself in the mirror while I squeezed toothpaste on my toothbrush. That’s when it hit! It hit that no one was going to call me beautiful regardless of the mess I was in the mornings, no one was going to tell me it’ll be okay regardless of the size of fuck up I made. I put the toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste on the counter. Something had vacuumed the wind out of my lungs and I needed to replenish that. As air was filling up my lungs, my knees gave out and so did my eyes. I hugged the cold bathroom floor while the smudged mascara from my cheeks were creating a little black stream on the floor. I didn’t care how ridiculous I looked I only cared that it needed out. It was burning a hole through me and it needed out. I was sick of people texting me telling me they’d be there if I needed anything, telling me how much of a bad person he was and how I deserved better, how he will end up with some trash while I’ll do great things. I didn’t want any of that! I wanted peace so I could muster up the pieces that was my heart, collect the shambles that was my life and just do my best to keep them together for when I was finally ready to break out the superglue. 

I laid there, like a blob that had no spine, wailing, screaming, choking on my own tears for what felt like an eternity in my head. I wanted it to end. Anyhow, I needed it to stop clawing my heart.

 A very annoying version of “despacito” broke the intense conversation my tears were having with the bathroom floor and the white rug with some blue flowers on it. It was my alarm who had no idea that I had may be slept two blinks between my episodes of self loathing tear fest and my intense self reflection on why he left me, what did I do wrong.  I pushed up from the bathroom floor and stepped into the shower. I normally let the water run for 5 minutes because I like the water hot but this morning, there was a fire inside me that needed calmed down or it was going to shred me to ashes. The cold water caused more pain as it pierced through my pores. I cried more but the stream of water swallowed my tears like they were a part of a whole. I rushed out of the shower and put on the only well pressed shirt left in my closet and a pair of khakis. I wore a pair of flats that were complete off color from what I was wearing and darted out the door with my car keys. I made sure to put on a healthy coat of concealer to scream to the world “I’m okay!!”. I convinced myself, I could do it. I went into my office and looked at my agenda. My first client for the day was a PTSD war hero who had lost more than just two limbs in the war. He lost someone who he thought was his family, his independence, his identity but he still rocked a smile like it was his bitch. Suddenly, the war with myself from the morning seemed so small, I felt shallow, privileged, hateful, lucky all in one moment. That’s when I realized, there was more to life, more to me. I could breathe, I could live, I should live, I would live.