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.