I walked into the building today, and I thought to myself, as I was marking my palms with little half moons: Be brave, be brave.

Because I knew I would see you for the first time since you broke me.

I considered skipping French.

But then I thought back to when I was sixteen: spunky, fearless, unbridles and I thought:

“I’ve lost that part of myself in him….”

So I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other.

But I’ll admit I needed my rock to sit between us.

But I made it. I made it.

And it hurts, oh god, it hurts.

It feels like someone is physically squeezing my heart, and I’ve never related to glass so much.

But I made it, and I’m proud of myself, and maybe, just maybe

I’ll be able to breathe a little easier tomorrow.