I feel so scooped out and empty right now. I have cried more in the last 48 hours than in the last 48 weeks. (The time being the time I wrote this, which is not the same time as it has been posted but thank you for your phone calls and emails anyway)

I feel raw.
All of my emotions are on the surface.
I feel unwound and exposed. I feel unsafe.
I have been trying to not be angry. Because it's so much easier for me to be an angry snarky girl than a girl that feels the hurt.
But I'm hurt. I'm so hurt.

I have no idea what to do, if there is anything to be done.
I have no idea how to process this new turn of events, as if I'm able to change anything anyway.

I don't know how to stop crying about it and I dread returning to work where the kind people in my office will ask how it was and demand pictures and I have nothing to offer them but tears I don't want to share with them.

I wish I didn't know better. I wish I didn't know that anger and sarcasm weren't appropriate and that I could easily slip into that dead feeling of being aloof and removed from it all.
I wish I hadn't seen that there are better ways, that there is a greater power to all of this chaos. I wish I still thought it was ok to be bitter and so angry I can't see straight.

I wish I could talk while I cried without being all blotchy and snot riddled.

I thought a lot today, while crying and trying not to drive into semi's that I wished I could just break up with everyone.
I thought how much easier it would be to be alone.

Because I can do alone. I can do angry and snarky.
Does it hurt? Sure.
But the hurt of alone is so much more familiar to me than this.
I don't know how to be hurt without being melodramatic. But I think that probably all of my hurt seems melodramatic to you sometimes.

I don't know how to keep going with this forgiveness. How the moment I crossed into the county of your residence I shook and shook wondering what corner you would spring from as vile as ever before.
Sitting alone, desperately dabbing at the rivers of mascara and eye liner running down my cheeks I worried that you would somehow walk in then and rejoice in your victory of my still being so damn broken.
I HATE you and I don't want to hate you. I want to feel nothing for you.
Casually I mentioned that the best I can feel for you is nothing, but that's only on a really good day.

On bad days. On bad weekends I loathe you with a red hot passion that I am embarrassed by. Because you are a HATEFUL woman and I want no part of you in me and yet the same hate burns inside of me.
I want to be done with you. I want you out of my head.

I'm just so raw. Scooped and cleaned out and nothing remains in me. I can only pray that I am filled back up with the grace I so desperately need tonight.

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