I had to get rid of you. All of the remains of your touch around my room. The blue notepad on my bedside table. I started sleeping on your side of the bed so I didn't have to turn over and look at it. It helped with the visions of you that clouded my mind, but it didn't get rid of you all together. Piece by piece I got rid of you and got myself back. Because the art of a broken heart was learning how to piece yourself back together in the end.
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The Art of Mending A Broken Heart
Short StoryI don't think it's about finding myself as much as it is about remaking myself. I had been this girl for awhile, and then I started changing. Heading in a new direction blindfolded. I think it's time to take the blindfold off and create myself with...
