I broke my rules. On the weekend. On the weekend without my daughter (see also: extra quiet and lonely). I looked at Pinterest which is like a barrage of visual and mental "your heart is broken! don't you miss him!" madness.
And I went downstairs. Where I have his stuff in a box. Including his cologne that smells like the best thing on the planet and sort of like the old lady who swallowed a fly...I guess I'll die.
Not actually. I just feel like her. I did something silly and felt like a fool and like dying or such.
As soon as Sloane's party is planned Pinterest is finding itself deleted again.
Thankfully I have avoided that bitch Adele. And there is one thing I absolutely refuse to concede to: any of these "broken" sentiments.
I am not broken. Lies and wasted time and empty promises are just that. I'm the kind of badass bitch who has been through a lot worse than this and still manage to run an amazing life and look pretty fashionable while I do it.
She don't want nobody near, from the Counting Crows for the title