Broken Hearts Rekindled/DISCONTINUED

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I woke up on the couch, that means I never had the chance to do my night routine. Rubbing my now crusty eyes from probably crying at night, I get up and head to the bathroom. I glance at the mirror as I get in and look at my features. I look tired.

The inside sometimes reflects to your outside. And if that bitch of heart was still broken, my face looks like it. I run a hand across my face and groan in annoyance. I really wish sometimes I was a bitch, I wish I didn't have that kind of a heart that feels so much for something or someone.

I slip off my hoodie and hang it on that small piece of metal coming out of the wall.  I groan once again, noticing that I need to give myself a little shave before leaving to the doctor's office today. Stepping onto the shower floor, it was ice cold and it wasn't even winter yet. Then again, I am a person who is easily cold.

I turn on the hot water and quickly step under it and close my eyes. Sometimes the warmth of the water was just like an embrace. Just a hot one with you holding yourself. I stand there with my head down, letting the water hit my head and back, and allow it to slide down.

Just as quickly I started my shower, a small sob came out of my lips. My tears were mixed with the hot water. The feeling running inside of me was unbearable. I feel so foolish. So delusional. I rest my back on the cold tiled wall and slide down to the floor. Bringing my knees to chest and let my forehead rest on my knees.

Why couldn't this pain just leave me? The pain where I feel like I need him with his presence, need him with his love. I want it to all go away so I can be at peace. I would rather wish he was dead than knowing he was alive, probably prancing around with another woman by his side. Someone of his status, someone of his race and someone from his colour.

How could I be compared to those women? Those women who were more experienced with everything. I am just a college girl trying to finish to get my degree.

The water continued to pour on top of my head and I no longer knew if my tears were falling. My vision was blurry and I was out of breath. I was like a baby who has just cried its lungs out and now is being fed milk till they pass out. I want to pass out or feel like it.

I wipe whatever tears are left and shave along with showering my body and wrap myself in a towel.

The moment I exit the bathroom I lay on my bed and let out the loudest sigh. After an entire episode of crying a small chuckle, a sad one, escapes out of me. Remembering that one time I teased him with a picture while he was at work.

A part of me wants to do anything to get just five more minutes with him, but maybe this was all for the best. For me and him.

I take a deep breath, slip my towel off and get off the bed. I moisturize my body like I always do and dry up my hair. I brush it gently with my fingers and add some of that Garnier hair cream to help the tangles unlock. My hair wasn't always the friendliest. It goes through a different phase every few months. It can be curly, straight, wavy, curls only at the bottom and puffy; and not even the Afro kind of puffy. It makes me look more like Dora with dry hair.

I manage to style it up into a nice bun and I decide to put on a formal attire for later this evenings therapy session. I give myself a look before putting on my clothes. I feel like I have a good body, I feel like I have a body that someone would desire. I am not thin to feel like only bones, and I am not fat to feel only skin. I am just the amount of perfect and even. But, in the past there was a time where he has made me feel insecure, asked me why my body wasn't like someone else. He apologised after knowing how it affected me, yet it didn't make it right. I frown at the memory and close my eyes while pursing my lips. I once again ask myself. Why me?