It’s 1 a.m.
Again, I’m crying into my pillow and ruminating about you.
I’m not sure if it will ever stop.
Only time will tell.
If I could, I’d cut your words out of my mind, rearrange the letters, and spell love and kindness instead.
If I could, I’d get out of bed and stand in front of the mirror like an invincible superwoman.
If I could, I’d make no meaning of your words and follow a path of resilience.
If I could, I’d tell myself that words will never hurt me.
I can’t, though.
I can’t get up today.
I can’t help but replay your words in my mind.
I can’t help but feel hurt by you—I thought you cared about me.
I can’t understand.
All I can do today is find a corner in my bathroom to crawl into.
All I can do is sit here and cry.
That is all I can do today.
Maybe tomorrow will be different.
I hope it will be.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll stand in the mirror like superwoman.
Yes, I think I will try this—tomorrow.
After all, impermanence is a fact of life.
And I know nothing of what tomorrow will bring.