She’s A Class Act
She self-medicates to justify how much she thinks about him. Excusing her sinful behavior because her thinking is impaired. In secret, it is her safe haven and the furthest from any sin of hers. Where she can live in a world where he is still her greatest devoted thoughts. She chooses to blissfully live in a place of intoxication as she continues to be intoxicated by him.
She looks for him in every man she meets—claiming that she does not compare relationships—in her subconscious, she is still filtering through to find him. Nobody is perfect, not even her and her twisted mind that still craves him.
She daydreams about him like he could be standing next to her in line. He is such a distant memory of her past—years hold more value for a girl in her twenties—yet he still has a presence in every room she’s in, like he is embedded in her atmosphere.
She dresses up pretty in his favorite skirt as if she would see him at the bar. She checks his social media every so often and inquires about him to mutual friends. She’s not proud, but his name slips occasionally when she’s stone-cold-stunned by a memory of him. Her friends groan with crooked heads about to combust with concern and pity. Shit.
She tells her therapist about the many scenarios she has played out in her head, where she gets to be with him. Bulldozing through her feelings, she tells no one how she wakes up in the mornings and chooses which scenario she lets herself imagine that day. This is called bargaining.
She wakes up every morning, brushes her teeth, and chooses to live in the past or her bargained future. It is a dystopian world where the girl she was got to love the boy she used to know. It is like that part of her that loved him is the only thing that hasn’t grown up, and it’s still controlling her everything.
She takes up his interests in hopes of feeling closer to him, in hopes of satisfying that nagging presence of him that wont leave her alone. While she waits for that chatter of him to fall asleep, she patiently waits to forget him. The longer she waits, as her eyelids start to patter shut, he remains to haunt her.
She has this quiet pain that lingers in the absence of him. A void that has never been satiated, but she continues to fill her days with tasks that keep her present. She is ashamed that if anyone were to live in her shoes for a day, they would fall asleep brokenhearted. She has become a woman who carries the broken heart of a little girl, seeking refuge in her memories of him.
