I don't have a clue what the trigger was but these past two days I'm back stuck in my head as my body fills with both anxiety and grief. It's been six months since he called it quits, almost 4 months since he filed for divorce and I moved out, and almost 3 months since the divorce was final. That all seems like yesterday and a million years ago all at the same time. And to think, a year ago this time I was blissfully unaware the way the rug would be pulled out from under me.
Sometimes the pain is as strong as that night he called it quits.
So I sit here alone in my apartment as the tears roll down my cheeks. I don't even know who to turn to. The tears will eventually pass. I'll wash my face. And then tomorrow I will slip into my chair in the choir room as if everything is alright and Monday morning I'll chat with my colleagues as if the nights don't even happen.
Haven't I cried enough tears? I'm not even sure this man deserves my tears. But maybe these tears are for me.
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