happier

                                    

                                          
Four weeks. 
                          
I've learned that a lot can change in four weeks, and that four weeks can feel like an infinite amount of time. 
                          
In the last month, my girlfriend of 3 years (Lou) broke up with me, I moved out of the Ocean's 9 residence, and I lost my spot on the team, for reasons pertaining to what Debbie called "fear of personal retaliation and sabotage". 
                          
Aka, she's afraid I'll kick her ass and sabotage her next heist. To her credit, she was absolutely right in her instinct to kick me out. If I stayed any longer, she'd be an unfortunate victim of my broken heart rage. 
                          
The rest of the team, especially Tammy and Rose, maintain contact with me. Rose comes over 3-4 times a week to check in on me and bring me food. Sometimes she brings Daphne with her. 
                          
Tammy visits when she can, oftentimes giving me priority over her own kids. Last time she came over, she told me to write my feelings in a journal. 
                          
Now, sitting on the floor of my bedroom, her advice echoes in my mind: "If you're having trouble, start by writing facts." 
                          
I exhale and grab a pen. Here goes nothing.
                          
1:58 am
                          
We broke up a month ago.
                          
It takes a few minutes for me to put the pen to paper again.
                          
I think about you every single goddamn day. 
                          
I think about how your eyes light up when you smile, the way you teased me unrelentlessly but always kissed me afterwards, and the way your tongue parts your lips when you are intensely focused. 
                          
I think about how safe I felt in your arms...and how I can't fall asleep at night now without your arms around me. No amount of melatonin helps. I don't need a pill. I need you. 
                          
Yes, I know it's cliche. God, I hate myself for that. But it's the simple truth; I can't sleep at night because your body isn't next to mine. My body yearns and aches for you, leaving me to toss and turn, cold and alone every night. 
                          
I thought that you were my forever. 
                          
I mean, you told me that I was your "forever & always" and I foolishly believed you. You told me over and over until I couldn't believe anything else. Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?
                          
Of course, the bad parts of our relationship play on repeat in my mind. Especially the night that text message popped up on your phone. From her. Who knew three little red hearts could destroy an entire person. I spent the next week on the bathroom floor, crying until there were no tears left. 
                          
But you picked me up and reassured me that it was platonic between you and her. You kissed away all my tears and paranoia. 
                          
I didn't have a choice but to believe you. I was in love with you. I would have done anything for you...
                          
I still would. 
                          
I'm still just a stupid, emotional, and obsessive girl in love. 
                          
Remember those nights when we spent hours cuddling in bed together, laughing and talking about our future? 
                          
Where did you go after I fell asleep each night? 
                          
You thought I didn't notice how you snuck into our bed at early hours in the morning. You thought you had me fooled because I never spoke up. But I knew. 
                          
You smelled like her every time you crawled back into our bed to wrap your arms around me. 
                          
And I stayed. For you. Even though I knew it was a losing battle.