Monday, August 1, 2016

I heart silence and sarcasm

I keep finding bits of him around the house, a smell of cologne in the closet, a t-shirt forgotten in a drawer, a picture on the shelf. Every time I see one it's like getting a punch in the stomach. Where does one start to try to get over this? How much longer does it take? Is there some sort of formula I can use?

SheSnarks offers me her pearls of wisdom:
I advise a lot of,"Girl, I was so stupid" music. Eventually you'll realize they were stupid, and you really tried. Thus you are not stupid, just trusting; and a lot kinder than you let on. So brush some glitter powder on your massive knockers. Now wouldn't it be a shame to cry all of that gloriousness off of your incredible set of tits?

Don't rent 27 dresses. 27 dresses is why we are so fucked up. Don't rent Fatal Attraction because it's beneath you to muss your hair in a strangling match. Think Steel Magnolias. Because one day that could be you again. You could know that kind of love. I did. And I too managed to stay out of prison, yet surrounded by strong powerful women.

Women like you.

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