the suffering 

when you first left i didn’t drink coffee for one month. i couldn’t imagine feeling more anxious and jittery than i already did. So i cut coffee completely out. maybe a part of me didn’t want to feel awake. maybe a part of me did not want to feel energized. i wanted to stay sleepy and tired and groggy. i cut out coffee but i picked up cigarettes. i could’ve gone through a pack a day.

i didn’t wear make up for 5 weeks. i didn’t see the use in wasting it when i knew it would just come off after i cried. it felt better to have bare eyes because i could rub them as soon as there was a tear. it would make it so that it was less obvious that i had been crying, i hate that runny mascara damsel in distress bullshit.
i cut down on alcohol too. you probably think i didn’t because you still got my text and my calls but that happens because your number is already on the tip of my tongue and on the edge of my fingertips.
in this situation i have no pride. i left my dignity outside. i couldn’t play games, i couldn’t do the “no contact rule”, i couldn’t pick up the pieces and move on like so many of my sisters told me to do. i didn’t care how sharp the edges of our broken mirror were, i wanted to put it back together, i demanded to put it back together.

and you just sat there. immobilized by what you’ve done to me, filled with guilt with the thought that you broke my trust. even now i’m working so hard for both of us and you just sit there. my back is starting to break from carrying the weight of us both. my knees are starting to buckle because it honestly just feels like too much. i don’t want to throw in the towel but i also don’t think i can move on. and if you don’t throw me a line soon then this is just going to fade away.

“the period of waiting patiently for release from suffering is an act of worship” 

-imam ghazali 

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