poor circulation

I remember whenever I was all alone in our house and crying and too weak to stand, my dog would immediately find me and start licking the tears off my face.

Choking up--less of a lump in my throat--but still choking up in the sexist sports bar next door to the laundromat because I had to ask my father why I'm still bitter. Bitter in the ribcage--salt on my face--water on my tongue. Lump in my throat because 50-75% of why I'm still angry at you is because I'm angry at myself.

I could use the rest of that wine. I could use the rest of him to remind myself that Hey, whatever, you were the last vestiges of a girl who believed in romance before he danced with you, kissed you. Look at yourself now--you're an adult, you can make the kind of choices you used to think would never have to be yours to make. Plus, it's fun. And who doesn't like a bit of fun? You have needs, and you have ways of addressing those needs in a safe, but fun, manner. I could use another Tuesday night.

You're happy with her. I'm happy alone, dreaming of someone, fantasizing about someone; satisfying needs with someone else.

No one important in your life will ever know that I was a part of your history. "The social media aspect does make it worse," my father said over a dry chicken salad. "It really can twist the knife." Twisting the knife with a freakishly happy grin on its face. INTERACT! SOCIALIZE! BE SOCIAL WITH YOUR FRIENDS! Why do you think I removed you? The knife had twisted itself into me so deep it made a hole, but by the time you came back, blind, to take the handle, I think I'd lost enough blood to render me numb. Dry soul.

I want my dog back.

I remember the time he and I almost got to it (one of the many times, embarrassingly enough), and out of nowhere, the dam broke, and I had a small panic attack. He suffered through me crying in fear over my future and who I was, probably just to get me to a state where I could either get back to what we'd intended to do that night or get dressed and leave. It was humiliating. He kept telling me it was fine. He kept trying to calm me down. Oh, at least he's a good friend when he needs to be.

My hands are cold.