I cried myself to sleep Sunday night and off and on all day yesterday. Today, I feel slightly better; no tears or anything, though that gutted hollowness I know so well is lurking behind the bend for me. I’m trying to stave it off. I have better things to do with my time than keen like a suffering shrouded woman.
The cold snap that fell on us all Sunday night brings me pleasure, so I’m having an easier time being less crushed than I normally would when I want to skip instead of walk everywhere. My breasts also look bigger in sweaters, so there’s that.
But here’s the thing: The Neighbor doesn’t love me and never, ever will.
I’ll explain all that later…
First, I need to reinsert my heart inside the birdcage. Hopefully it’ll stay on its perch this time, the stupid fucking thing.
Breathe, Hy, breathe… it’ll be ok, honey.