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.