Ch 1: Fu** Love, This is War

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"Alexis

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"Alexis...baby please call me back."

"Message deleted"

"Alexis...I know I messed up, but I miss y-"

"Message deleted"

"Dammit Alexis! I'm tired of talking to your voicemail. Please, just call-"

"Message deleted"

"I don't even know what to say. Please c-"

"Message deleted"

"..."

"Message deleted"

"..."

"Message deleted"

"..."

"Message deleted"

"..."

"Message deleted"

"...I love you..."

"Message deleted"

"Baby please come back. Or you could just call me and we can talk...whatever you want...just-"

"Message deleted"

"Alexis...you know what...whatever... I'm done. *the call ends*

"Message deleted. You have no more messages."

I shut my phone off, put it on my nightstand, and roll over, pulling the covers over my head simultaneously

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I shut my phone off, put it on my nightstand, and roll over, pulling the covers over my head simultaneously. Attempting to block out the emotions trying to flood my psyche.

I haven't left my room since...well, I'm not sure.

The first couple days here, I spent most of my time on the balcony, drowning my pain in salted red wine and dark chocolate. Looking out at the ocean, but not seeing it.

When I ran out of strength to make it to the balcony, I stayed in bed. Wrapped in the hallow warmth of depression and anxiety.

Mama and Daddy visit me, drop food off, give me affection and encouraging words, and help me get out of bed...sometimes.

Daddy asking for a name, so he can 'hunt his punk *ss down, and pick a couple bones'...literally. Before putting him out of all off our misery.

I wouldn't put it past daddy to have already picked a spot for the body.

Nahia and Kamari call the house phone, because they know my cell is off

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Nahia and Kamari call the house phone, because they know my cell is off. We talk for a little while, but then I just get tired. Or, at least I say I do. I usually just want head-space. Or sulking time, whatever you want to call it.

I miss them.

It's been, maybe a month since I left Charlotte. Kamari says the pain from a failed relationship gets easier, but it seems like the opposite to me.

I keep thinking...

Am I not worth the compromise? Does he not want me the way I want him?

But maybe I'm being selfish. I haven't even stopped to think about why he's so against marriage a d family.

And if he loves me like he said the last two times we fought over the subject, why won't he just let me go, so I can move on? And why do I keep coming back?

Probably delusional hope that this time it'll be different. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he realized he can't live without me. Maybe...

I laugh sardonically. Yeah, right.

I just wish I could be numb. I wish I could forget him and every emotion associated with him.

If he's not gonna change, why keep calling and leaving messages?

He may want me back now, because the wound is still fresh, but I know better. He'll chose to sacrifice his angel, to keep a lid on his demons.

It'd be best if he just moved on. He isn't going to budge on either, so  just move on. Hopefully without repeating the same cycle with the next one.

I really wish I could stop letting him occupy space in my head.

Why don't men like him come with a warning sign, a liability contract, an infomercial? SOMETHING!

They don't though, do they? No. They swagger into your life, and sweep you off your feet with their charm.

Make you feel loved. Make you dream of fairytales and impossibilities coming true. Make you think that life is better because they're in it.

You give them your heart, and they hold on to it, promising to cherish it and never break it. And then...they take that Prince Charming mask off and they show you the beast they really are.

WELL F*** HIM! And every man like him. I'm done being sad. I'm done being depressed. I'm done being the poor woman. I have never been weak, and I won't start now!

I throw the covers off, get out of bed, and practically March to my walk-in closet. Throwing the double doors open so hard the sound of them hitting the walls makes me jump.

After composing myself, I continue my mission. Rummaging through the racks of clothes until I find my f*ck 'em fit.

"He still has my heart. So what, he can keep it. I don't need it. That muthaf***** is going to regret the day he met me."

CHAPTER ONE AWESOMETTES & AWESOMITES!

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CHAPTER ONE AWESOMETTES & AWESOMITES!

I'D HATE TO BE BRUCE RIGHT NOW.

I KNOW IT IS REALLY SHORT, BUT I FELT THAT IT HAD TO BE. WHAT DO YOU THINK?

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