As promised, below is an excerpt from the book I’m currently writing:
I’m sitting on the bathroom floor crying. My head is hurting from the constant flow of tears. I don’t even know how much time has passed; all I know is, this was the final straw. No more chances for him. Love isn’t supposed to hurt like this.
I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong. I’m educated; I cook, I clean. I throws it down in bed. I like to think I’m pretty good looking. My nose is a little big though, now that I think about it. And my breasts are a little on the smaller end of the spectrum. I should probably go to the gym more often too because these love handles are not cute. He always reassured me that none of that mattered, but that other girl- she has it all. And she has it all with a flat stomach. But I was there when he was at his lowest, and I’m the one that helped him through it. He still doesn’t even have his own car! He was picking her up and taking her out in my whip. Can you imagine? Riding around in my BMW, making her believe it’s his. Ugh, how could I be so stupid?
And before I could continue on with the self-destruction, my face was in the toilet bowl again, hurling out whatever was left in the contents of my stomach.
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