30

My face is sore and swollen from crying like an idiot for the past two hours, sitting on my bed, and rubbing in a moisturizer to minimize the mess I made after washing my face. I know my skin is blotchy and pale, my nose red, and my eyes are puffed up. I’m washed out, yet it felt good to cleanse my soul and give into everything that’s been eating at me for days. I am physically lighter, as though a huge weight I was unaware I have been carrying this past couple of days is lifted from my head.

So much for controlling my ability to cry over the past years. I don’t think I have ever sobbed like that for that long in my life, and I feel so stupid that Dane triggered it. I guess crying that first time broke the off switch, and now my emotions are a free for all anytime I get sad.

For what, really?

Yelling at me, making me feel repulsive? Or because I got to kiss him, and he made it clear that this weirdness growing in me was so one-sided, and a small spark had held onto loose hope that it